


I wish you were here

by Annemarie01



Series: Married with Troubles [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: (That's new!), (what's new), A City in Peril, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Danarius at his worst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Meredith losing it, Nobles rebelling, Sex, Some Humor, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 112,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: An old-fashioned Dragon Age II story with a lot of unexpected twists.Frankly, nothing is what it seems in this story. Romance turns into angst, magic turns into crime, nobility turn to rebellion. And of course sanity takes a holiday and gives reason a run for its money. But above all trebulations stands the love between Hawke and Fenris and that love can conquer anything. Even seperation, rebellion and a dangerous Tevinter threat.Comes with the whole package of love, romance, adventure, treason, conspiracy and heroic battle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not about weddings. It may start out as some kind of romantic what-about-to-wear-on-my-wedding-day-may I hope-to-faint-in-the-right-veil-kind of story, but don't be fooled. Yes, it's about love. Nothing's wrong about love. But it's also about adventure, and more about madness. And even more about loyalty. Standing strong against tyranny. Well, read and find out.\
> 
> (A/N: You can read this story without taking note of its predecessor but, if you haven't, please comprehend that in a Night to Remenber Anders rapes Hawke, which, of course, has lots of consequenses. One of those is that Fenris came to her rescue and, in the end, asked her to marry her. And she said yes. The other consequense is that she's on edge and Anders lives in a constant state of guilt. It will take quite a while before things will get clear in the "why "department. But, of course, there will be an explantion why Anders behaved so outrageously.)
> 
> And here’s where the story continues:  
> Although the stormy night that led to Fenris's proposal started out very distressing, Hawke is, again, a bright, contented and even delighted woman who’s happily strolling with two of her friends through Hightown. One of the friends criticizes her taste in flowers, the other one is flagrantly uninterested. Fenris and Aveline try to come to an arrangement and Varric suspiciously eyes Sebastian who visits the Hanged Man carrying his stationary and lots of paper. What's that all about?  
> Anders is only awaking from one nightmare to end into another.
> 
> And, of course, this is just an overture to lots of crazy scenes and ever crazier outcomes...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 1

-

_Some time before the wedding_

-

Anders was restlessly pacing his cell. Five steps forwards, turn, five steps back. He had been doing it for hours, if not days. He had counted all the stones in the wall, multiplied them, divided them, let loose all sorts of other mathematics on the stupid bricks, but nothing could put his mind at ease. He had tried to use his magic; not to break free but to set his mind at ease. To forget what had happened or at least to get some sleep, but it had been to no avail. Somewhere between the confusing hours of waking up in Sebastian’s cell and being dragged to the Keep to be thrown into the dungeons, someone must have given him magebane or performed some trick to drain his magic. Justice had fled into some crevice of his mind and he couldn’t reach him. The coward. He had been the one who had put him into this mess and now he hid. _Now you’ve got what you want?_ he sneered but there came no answer. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer and he addressed the guard who was watching him with wary eyes.

‘I need to speak with the Captain of the Guard,’ he said. ‘With Aveline.’

His voice sounded hoarse. He realised he had been raving and roaring for a good deal of his imprisonment, mostly at himself for his utterly idiotic action. Or better: at Justice who had pushed him over the boundary of normal civilised behaviour and after that had crept away and had stayed silent to leave him to his own despair and trepidation.

‘I don’t think the Captain –‘ the guard started, stuttering.

‘Now!’ Anders hollered with blazing eyes and the poor women ran as if an Archdemon was on her tail.

Not minutes later Aveline descended the stairs leading to the jails in the dungeons of the Keep. She silently looked at the mage for a moment, took in his haggard appearance and feverishly burning eyes.

‘What do you want, Anders?’

He folded his hands around the bars of his prison. ‘I want to speak with her. With Hawke.’

Aveline shook her head. ‘She doesn’t want to speak with _you_.’

He clenched his fingers around the cold metal. ‘I want to apologize to her, tell her I’m sorry for what I’ve done to her,’ he pressed. ‘Is that too much to ask for?

Aveline smiled wanly. ‘The last thing she has on her mind right now is you and your appalling deed or your pathetic apologies. She is engaged to Fenris now; he picked her up after your repulsive deed and one thing led to another. He has asked her to marry him and she agreed.’ She let out a sardonic laugh. ‘I guess that’s quite the opposite of what you tried to accomplish.’

Anders made an heroic effort at controlling himself. _Not that wild dog!_ And then he realised he had been acting more like a feral beast than the elf ever had. There was no one to blame but himself. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the bars. But he didn’t want to give up that easily.

‘Please, Aveline, I need to see her.’

But the Guard Captain shook her head. ‘No Anders, there’s no way. She doesn’t want to, I won’t let it happen. She is happy right now, I won’t let you spoil that. You better prepare for your lawsuit.’

Sharply he looked up. ‘My lawsuit? I’m not going to be send to the Circle?’

Aveline snorted derisively. ‘No. Not yet. You will be put on trial for what you have done, not for the fact you’re a mage. But don’t consider yourself fortunate. I wouldn’t be surprised if you will be condemned to death. Raping the Champion of Kirkwall is no small crime, rape in general isn’t. But I expect you will be locked away for the rest of your life, in which case you’ll be hauled off to the Circle anyway. And I don’t doubt for a second you’ll be made tranquil.’

Anders shrank back. ‘No!’ he shrilled, ‘I’d rather you kill me now before that happens!’

‘That’s not for me to decide,’ Aveline replied coldly. She started to turn. ‘And Anders, the next time you harass one of my guardsmen, there will be severe repercussions.’

 

Back in her office she slumped into her chair.

‘Well?’ Fenris asked. He was leaning against the wall in a deceivingly casual way. Aveline knew better. It had taken all her power of persuasion to calm him down after the young guardswoman had darted in with her message, and even more to keep him in her office. ‘What did he have to say?’

Aveline let out a sigh. ‘He wanted to talk to her.’

‘Over my dead body!’ the elf hissed heatedly. ‘I hope you made it very clear that will never happen.’

‘Yes I did, don’t you worry.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘He got very upset when I told him he will most likely be made tranquil.’

‘Good. Let him suffer for what he has done,’ Fenris said with grim satisfaction.

Aveline stared at the opposite wall. ‘Yet,’ she said pensively, ‘I can’t help wondering what would have happened without the presence of that blasted spirit. What kind of man he would have been, if he would have been capable to do what – he has done, without being pushed.’

Fenris looked incredulously. ‘You’re not saying you’re taking pity on that monster?!’

‘No, of course not. I just think it’s such a tragic loss of life. He never should have merged with Justice.’ She would not admit it to the elf, but deep down she felt sorry for the mage.

‘It was his own decision,’ Fenris spat. ‘So, he has to live with the consequences of his obtuse choice. And don’t call that deranged spirit “Justice”. It is an out of control dangerous and evil entity that has as much to do with justice as a cruel mind with empathy.’

Aveline definitively didn’t want to continue the discussion and she heaved her hands. ‘Let us please return to the subject we were talking about earlier, before you get your knickers in a twist.’

Fenris raised a brow. ‘My knickers ..?’

‘Let’s forgo the colourful expressions, shall we? You know what I mean.’

For a moment it seemed Fenris wanted to disagree but then he conceded. ‘You’re right. The abomination is not worth getting enraged about. Well he is, but I’m trying very hard to put that behind me.’

 _And succeeding gloriously,_ Aveline thought sarcastically, but immediately corrected herself _. He_ is _trying very hard, I must give him that._

The elf crossed the room and sat down opposite the Guard Captain.

‘Alright then, the matter of the security at the time of your wedding.’ She paused a few seconds and tapped her fingers on the surface of her desk. ‘Listen, Fenris, I think it’s all very romantic, wanting to get married in the place where you first met, but you must agree with me that’s ludicrous. I can’t possibly guarantee the safety of all those toffee-nosed nobles thronging together in Lowtown.’

‘Don’t point your finger at me,’ Fenris said, defensively. ‘It was not my idea.’

‘Then talk it out of her head.’

‘I’ve tried to but she is adamant about it.’

‘Stubborn woman,’ Aveline grumbled.

‘I don’t like the thought of all those nobles gathering around us in the first place. What about we just don’t invite them? Two birds with one stone.’

Aveline had to laugh. ‘I love the way you think, but I’m afraid you won’t get away with it. She _is_ the Champion. No, we’ll have to find another solution.’

-

Hawke, in the meantime, was strolling around the Hightown market together with Merrill and Isabela. They were perusing the florists’ stalls and the pirate was obviously bored to shreds. ‘I really fail to see what’s so interesting about flower-arrangements,’ she wailed. ‘Can’t we go to the Hanged Man and just talk about it over a few drinks? I could die for a decent glass of whisky.’

‘In that case you shouldn’t go to the Hanged Man,’ Hawke said absentmindedly. ‘There they haven’t even heard of the word decent.’

‘That’s what I like about the place, the total lack of decency.’

‘It’s such a pity you’re getting married in the autumn, there’s so little choice of flowers in this season,’ Merrill chirped.

‘That may be, but I’m not going to postpone my wedding day because I can’t get my hands on lavender or lilies or tulips,’ Hawke resolutely said. ‘We’ll have to make do with chrysanthemums and asters. And truly, Merrill, I don’t see the problem.’

‘They’re not _romantic_ ,’ the small elf complained. ‘You ought to have romantic flowers on your special day. Perhaps we can get some roses, although they will be highly overpriced and probably half wilted. And I suppose we can make paper lilacs to decorate the Vhenadahl Tree with. I only hope it won’t rain or they will become mushy.’

‘Yes, we can’t have that,’ Hawke mocked. ‘The fact my wedding dress will get soaked and muddy and my hair will be ruined is totally unimportant, after all. As long as the paper lilacs stay in bloom.’

Merrill slapped her mildly on her arm. ‘That’s not how I meant it!’ she cried out in dismay. ‘Of course your dress and your hair are far more important.’ She cocked her head. ‘Maybe we can find a way to roof the Alienage? That would be nice. Let’s ask Varric about it.’

 _Indeed, Varric will exactly be the right person,_ Hawke thought. _I can’t wait to see him balancing on a wobbly ladder, trying to hammer the heavy tarpaulin to some shabby shacks._ She could hardly keep a straight face. 

‘Here’s a thing, why don’t we cut with the yawny flowers and go on a lingerie hunt?’ Isabela, who hadn’t been listening to a word, put forward. ‘Exciting lingerie is essential on a wedding night. Gets the heat going, if you catch my drift.’

Unperturbed Hawke stared at her. ‘I think Fenris and I are very capable of getting our heat going without attributes, thank you very much. Although,’ she added dreamily, ‘I must admit the suggestion has its appeal.’ The thought of an aroused Fenris passionately shredding too expensive silk and lace items off her body made her suddenly very hot and glowing.

‘See? I knew it! And I know just the place!’ The pirate queen took her arm and started to drag her along.

‘Why am I not surprised,’ Hawke mumbled, almost tripping over her feet.

‘But what about the flowers?’ Merrill twittered bewildered while she jogged after them, fervently trying to keep up with the tempo.

‘Another day, Kitten. There is always another day for boring chores.’

-

Varric was glowering distrustfully at Sebastian who was now and again scribbling some words on a sheet of cheap paper, but most of the time chewed pondering on his pencil, staring into the distance.

‘What are you doing here, Choirboy?’ he asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer and curiosity got the best of him.

They were seated at a table at the back of the Hanged Man. Varric had been there since the early hours, working on his speech that had to become the height of the Wedding of the Century. He secretly doubted the nobles would be of the same opinion about said wedding. For them it would probably be the Crime of the Century, what with the Champion of Kirkwall marrying an elf of all creatures and a former slave to boot. Okay, crime was perhaps too strong a word but it would at least be the Gossip of the Century. Varric didn’t mind, as long as the word “century” was involved in combination with the remembrance of his brilliant speech.

 The only problem was that things weren’t going very smoothly with the brilliancy. Or in the speech-department at that, to put the finger on the sore spot. As a matter of fact, it was turning into a drag.

‘Typical,’ he had muttered umpteenth times. ‘Maker’s balls! A writer’s block! Of all the times I could catch that virus, it’s pestering me now!’ Meanwhile, he was surrounded by empty mugs and balls of paper, testifying of his wretched failures. Somewhere during his pitiable attempts, Sebastian had entered the tavern. He had sat down without a word, just a nod, had produced a pencil and a wad of that coarse paper and had started to scribble, stare, scribble some more, scratch out words and whole sentences, sigh, scribble and chew.

He turned to Varric with that insufferable amiably smile of his.

‘I’m glad you asked, Varric. I was wondering if you could assist me..?’

‘With what?’ responded Varric gruffly. ‘Wrecking your writing items?’

‘No! With writing my sermon for the wedding!’

Varric just glared at him, too baffled to utter a word. He wanted to punch himself. Not only a writer’s block, but also, or even worse, at a loss for words. Due to _Choirboy_ no less. Could he ever sink lower? Could this day become even worse? He should probably down a bottle of rum and stay in bed for the rest of the month. Sermon. Had the pretty princeling gone out of his bloody mind?

‘I mean, you are an extraordinary talented author and I’m desperately struggling with the text. I was hoping you could give me a hand. With the syntax, some witty remarks maybe. A topic even. Something like that. Anything. I’m completely stuck.’

He looked at Varric with what Merrill once had described as puppy eyes, although she had referred to someone entirely different. To the happy groom to be precisely. The happy groom who was ever so happily ignorant of his blighted suffering. Nevertheless Varric fell for it, feeling very sympathetic despite his usual dislike of Sebastian. The dwarf scratched his head. ‘I’m afraid you have come to the wrong address today,’ he confessed. ‘I’m stuck too. Totally stuck. I can’t get more stuck I’m sure. But perhaps a good amount of alcohol will help to solve our mutual problem.’

Which was the reason why three women, armed with suspiciously high-priced looking little bags (or at least the little bags looked like they were holding very high-priced – thingies), stumbled upon a dwarf and a Chantry brother who were loudly singing the most vulgar drinking songs while holding on to each other’s shoulders.

The bride-to-be declared she didn’t want to know.

The next day Sebastian didn’t want to know either.

-

Anders shuddered in his sleep. There rang a sound, soft but distinctive. With a jolt he woke up, hitting his head on the wall. He stifled a curse. He lay back on the mattress and stayed motionless for some time. Had he been fooling himself? No, there it was again. A faint sound at the door of his prison cell. And then a whisper came.

‘Anders? You’re there?’

He knew that voice. Hope stirred.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the "nice" lad...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 2

-

Anders could hardly believe his own ears; for a moment he thought he was hallucinating. ‘Marius, is that you,’ he whispered cautiously, hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself. ‘How did you get in here?’

Marius was one of the young recruits of the Mage Underground and undoubtedly the most dedicated and talented. ‘By using magic,’ he whispered back.

‘Have you gone mad?’ Anders hissed agitated. ‘They will kill you, or worse, when you get caught!’ No one had to explain to a mage what that “worse” meant.

He got up from his cot and shuffled to the iron bars that stood between him and his freedom. Together with an army of City Guards and several more locked doors, he had to admit, but right now these bars were the first obstacle. If they were conquered, who knew what was possible. In the sparse light he could discern a cloaked and hooded figure, crouching in the shadows.

Justice stirred in his head. ‘ _You have to get out of here. You can’t serve the Mages’ Purpose in this cell.’_ He always managed to pronounce those two words with the capitals falling heavily into place. Normally it didn’t bother Anders, but right now he was vexed.

‘Oh, now you deign to speak,’ he scoffed. ‘And where were you when I needed you, hm?’

_‘You didn’t need me to yell and wail at the walls about you’re pathetic fate, nor to humiliate yourself before the Guard Captain,’_ the spirit replied dryly. ‘ _But you need me now. Heed the young man.’_

‘This is the Keep, not the Gallows,’ said Marius in the meantime, oblivious of the short inaudible argument,. ‘There are no Templars in this place who can recognize magic. And I didn’t kill anyone; I’ve just used a mild sleeping spell. It’s safe for now but we’ll have to hurry.’

Anders heard the rattling of keys and a moment later his prison was opened. He followed Marius, occasionally stepping over bodies that seemed to be guardsmen being sound asleep. When they reached level ground, he grabbed Marius’s sleeve. ‘This is getting dangerous,’ he murmured concerned.

Marius turned and smiled at him. ‘No, master. Everyone is asleep and before they will wake up, we’ll be long gone.’

_Just a_ mild _sleeping spell? Bloody hell, this boy is indeed extremely talented._

And then the title Marius had used to address him got through to him.

He hated to be called “master”. It reminded him too strongly of the heated words of that, that -of Fenris when he was going off, ranting about the Magisters in Tevinter and their evil deeds. Deep in his heart he had to agree with him. Magic shouldn’t be malevolent, magic should serve men. Yes, Andraste’s words and, damn her, but she had been right. Deep in his heart he knew the elf was right as well. There were too many mages who took advantage of their gift. But then again, being driven to the edge brought out the worst in men, and thus in mages as well. Some men would reach for their knives or simply use their fists. Other men would turn to bribery or hiring assassins. Mages would turn to blood magic. Especially in this city with that paranoid bitch Meredith in charge. She was the embodiment of malice.

‘ _Magic shouldn’t be punished,’_ Justice rumbled.

_Shut up,_ Anders thought.

‘Don’t call me that,’ he said up loud to Marius. He caught the boy’s puzzled and slightly confused look. ‘I’m not a master and certainly not yours.’ _Master, Magister – damn you Fenris._

‘I’m only showing you the way out,’ the young man said, visibly taken aback. ‘And you’ve agreed to make me your apprentice, so I thought it only appropriate to call you master.’

Had he agreed? He couldn’t recall. _Yes you did, before you got tangled up with your obsession. Your weakness. That woman,’_ Justice remarked reproachfully.

_shut up shut up shut up_

‘It’s alright,’ he mumbled weakly.

Sometimes being driven to the edge could bring out the best in people. That’s how he wanted to remember Albran Hawke. She always stood ready to help the needy, even mages. He always could have counted on her.

And then he had gone and spoiled it all. _Shut up!_

Without any further comments he followed Marius out of the Keep into freedom. Apparently there was some obscure backdoor leading to an even more obscure backstreet. He inhaled the – relatively – fresh air of Kirkwall. He stopped and laid a hand on Marius’s shoulder. ‘Before you take me to wherever you’re intending to take me, there is something important I have to do,’ he told his evident apprentice.

The young man didn’t argue but followed him with a troubled look.

-

‘Please Hawke, try to see my point of view,’ Aveline pleaded. ‘Reconsider your decision. For the sake of the common good.’ She practically begged and she hated it.

But Hawke put her foot down. ‘For the common good?  Don’t make me laugh. What you _mean_ is for the good of the nobles and I don’t care a rat’s arse about their good or bad or everything in between. Let them stew in their own expensive juice.’

‘Now listen here, young lady,’ the Guard Captain started in a threatening tone but the affect of her stern attitude was spoiled by the loud, be it somewhat shrill laughter Hawke let out.

‘Do you really have to sound like my mother? It’s hilarious.’ She shifted in her chair. Frankly, it wasn’t that hilarious at all, but she had to stop feeling guilty about her mother’s death. This helped. A little. _Consider it a form of therapy._

Aveline changed tack. ‘Albran, look at it this way: if the people in Lowtown turn into a mob and start a riot, it will ruin your wedding day. You must agree that when corpses begin to fill the streets, it will significantly lower the merriment of the festivities.’

Hawke grumbled something unintelligibly under her breath. She stood and filled the glasses with the white wine from the bottle sitting in the wine-cooler. After that she poked in the fire that needed no poking whatsoever. For a moment she let her eyes wander over the titles stacked in the bookcases of her library without really seeing them. _I should make time for cataloguing them,_ she thought absentmindedly. She knew Aveline had tried to talk Fenris out of what she thought was a preposterous idea. But the elf (the enchanting, breathtaking handsome and heart crushing, caring elf – _her_ elf, she reminded herself and it brought a fleeing soft smile on her face) had refused to risk another argument. He simply had stated that if Aveline wanted a solution, she had to talk to Albran herself. And thus the Guard Captain had paid her a visit. Hawke sat down again and took a sip of her wine.

Aveline took (or as it turned out mistook) her silence for an accord. ‘So, I have finally convinced you?’ The plain answer she received made her want to strangle the other woman.

‘No. We will get married in the Alienage, whether you like it or not.’

The Guard Captain flared up. ‘Damn it Hawke, you stubborn piece of-‘

‘Hear me out before you insult me,’ Albran snapped. ‘I understand that you fear you won’t be able to keep the peace in Lowtown; it’s hard enough as it is without all those snotty pretentious members of society nosing about the place. So, we will have an intimate consecration under the Vhenadahl Tree. Friends only. And elves, of course, because we can hardly lock them up in their hovels or chase them away. Besides that they are more than welcome. After that we will have a celebration in the Keep where the curious high and mighty will get every opportunity to gawk at Fenris as much as they want to. I assure you, he’s enormously looking forward to it.’

‘The nobility will not be pleased,’ Aveline remarked grumpily but she couldn’t help grinning. ‘You know their damned pride.’

‘The nobility can choke on their precious pride,’ Hawke said obstinately. ‘The fact I’m the Champion doesn’t mean I’m their public possession. And that counts even more for Fenris.’

‘You know they still see him as your body guard.’

‘Then they will have to get used to him being my husband, won’t they.’ Determinedly she clenched her jaw.

Aveline shook her head. ‘Alright,’ she sighed, ‘I think we have reached some middle ground. It won’t appease the nobles -‘

‘Good. I don’t intend to appease them.’

‘- but at least it will prevent a lot of bloodshed.’ Aveline felt exhausted. Having a discussion with Albran Hawke was no small feat, that was to say, if she had set her mind on something. Getting her way for example. ‘You will still need an escort. And I will have to call upon my men to keep the nobles from following you.’ She groaned inwardly. ‘What a sight that will make.’

Albran smiled broadly. ‘A pity I won’t be there to witness the scene.’

‘You know the Seneschal will be livid.’

Hawke’s smile broadened even more. ‘I can’t wait to hear his objections.’

Finally Aveline slumped back into the chair and heaved her glass in a toast. ‘You win,’ she surrendered with a smirk.

‘I never was aware we were having a fight,’ Albran countered sweetly.

-

Fenris stared at his reflexion in the mirror of the outrageously expensive dress shop.

‘I think you look dashing,’ Varric commented. He took a bite of a piece of toast topped with delicious smoked salmon and a delicate sip from the flute filled with exquisite champagne, both offered with the complements of the house. ‘It better be worth it, mind you,’ he smirked roguishly. ‘The suit you are measured with costs more than your whole estate, lock, stock and barrel. And I should know it.’ He was lounging on a couch with far too many frivolous ornaments to be comfortable. But a Tethras felt at home anywhere. Even on a ridiculously adorned couch in a far too pricy shop filled with assistants who acted more snooty than the average Orlesian bred noble in Hightown.

‘I look like an overdressed baboon,’ Fenris protested.

Two dressmakers were hovering around him, lifting his arms, shifting his legs, tinkering with a tape measure and sticking pins in the vicinity of very disturbing regions of his body.

Varric shrugged. ‘Sometimes a man has to make a sacrifice for the woman he loves,’ he stated boldly. ‘And when he accomplishes that feat and _still_ manages to look striking, he’s a hero.’

‘Perhaps in your stories he is. But I dare to wager your heroes never have to stand on a dais, being manhandled and forced to wear an outfit a dragon simply would whisk away with one breath.’ Fenris was getting desperate.

‘Think about it this way,’ Sebastian offered, ‘your beloved will even love you more when she’s aware of the sacrifice you bring to her benefit.’

Fenris glared suspiciously at him while one of the dressmakers almost deprived him of his manhood with one of his vile pins. ’I can only hope she suffers as much as I while she’s trying on her wedding dress.’

That made Varric almost choke with laughter, and in his mirth he generously started spreading crumbs around.

‘You really don’t know much about women, do you.’ He laughed even harder when he saw the elf’s flustered face. ‘Let me tell you they revel in what you consider a predicament. There will be much tweeting and chirping, giggling and cries in awe, and endless turns around just to hear the satisfying sound of the rustling of acres of silk, and basking in the affect. And then they do it all over again with another dress.’ By now Fenris’s face was an example of uncomprehending abhorrence. ‘But think about the moment she will rip that perfectly fitting suit off your frame with heated excitement,’ the dwarf pointed out, grinning devilishly. ‘You will be thanking the Maker for a long time.’

Sebastian looked at him with a hurt expression. ‘You’re turning a sacred moment into something vulgar,’ he complained.

‘What?’ Varric said innocently. ‘I wasn’t aware that the Maker or Andraste, besides all their other activities, or non-activities as you will, also meddled with a man trying on a wedding suit. What’s so holy about that?’

Sebastian rolled his eyes. ‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

Varric cocked his head with a cunning glint in his eyes. ‘And here I was, thinking that consummating the wedding was an essential part of the nuptials and as sanctified as said nuptials themselves. Better get the best out of it. That’s my opinion.’

The Chantry brother just snorted disapprovingly.

‘You’re just jealous,’ Varric concluded.

Sebastian didn’t deign to react on that particular jab. Although it secretly hurt. A little, at least.

-

About a very long hour later they were standing outside the shop, to Fenris’s immense relief. That relief was of short notice.

‘And now we’re going to search for a pair of matching shoes,’ Varric said with a vicious grin, beforehand anticipating the elf’s reaction. He didn’t get disappointed; the look on Fenris’s face was priceless.

‘Shoes?!’ the elf exclaimed in desperation. His voice caught with raw panic. This was definitely going to be the worst day of his life.

Varric, on the other hand, was amusing himself intensely and thought this day was compensating fabulously for the awful one of yesterday. ‘Yes. Shoes. You can’t marry the woman of your dreams barefoot; besides that, it would ruin the suave affect of the suit.’

And without further ado, but with huge satisfaction, he started to drag the highly reluctant elf along.

-

Although she was fairly satisfied with the outcome of her talk with Aveline, Albran felt ill at ease, as if something bad was about to happen.

_Don’t be such a twit,_ she chastised herself, _what could possibly go wrong? Except for rain on the wedding day, the wedding cake collapsing, tripping over the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric, an outbreak of food poisoning because of badly gone canapés, Fenris getting cold feet ... Oh, stop it, you utterly stupid old bore._

After she had seen the Guard Captain out, she had returned to the library. She flopped down in a chair and poured herself another glass of wine. She wondered how Fenris was faring. She grinned inwardly at the livid images in her mind of a panicky elf, surrounded by know-all fussing shop staff, one too serious ex-prince who would do nothing but increase his anxiousness, and one dwarf definitely up to mischief. The poor elf had looked unnerved and wound up already before they took off, and he was undoubtedly getting more irritated by the minute. Then again, according to the impish way Varric had been smiling when he and Sebastian collected Fenris, _he_ was having one hell of a good time. She was pretty certain her wondrous husband-to-be never had thought about these consequences when he asked her to marry him, otherwise he had abandoned the whole enterprise even before the start.

She was so lost in her musings that she never heard him entering the room. When she noticed his presence it was already too late.

-

She went completely rigid. Visions of  that gruesome night, such a short time ago, started to swirl around in her mind. She wanted to scream but no sound passed her lips. The overwhelming feeling of being powerless returned, together with the paralysing terror and the crushing realization of being violated by someone she had considered a friend. The shattering of trust. She had been so busy being happy about Fenris returning to her and with the preparations for the wedding day, that she had managed to lock away those horrible memories into a distant and secured corner of her mind. But now they engulfed her, taking her in a suffocating hold. Or perhaps surrounded her like a swarm of killer bees, stabbing her with deadly stings.

_This must be a nightmare. I’ve fallen asleep. This is not real. This is a delusion. It has to be. Wake up. Wake up!_

She started to tremble.

Anders just looked at her. He had prepared a whole speech, all the while repeating the words in his head on his way to her mansion, but now those words escaped him. She was visibly so shocked and terrified that it broke his heart. He had done that to her. The moment he had walked into her library she had looked content, blissful even; the moment she became aware of him, that look had turned into a picture of mortal fear. He took a step forward and in return she tried to disappear into the back of her chair.

_Say why you came here for and be done with it,_ Justice droned, _we have more urgent things at hand_. Right now he very much wished he could hit that blasted spirit. Hard.

‘How did you get in here,’ Albran finally croaked.

He took another step and she flinched fiercely. She looked like a trapped rabbit and it hurt him. He raised his hands. ‘I’m not going to harm you,’ he assured her, hoarsely. He indeed felt like he was trying to calm down a cornered animal. She stared wide-eyed at him. ‘I’m only here to tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve done to you.’

‘How did you escape,’ she whispered, not listening at all to what he said.

Anders swallowed. ‘Please hear me out, Albran. I love you and always will, although I’m well aware you will never be able to return that feeling. I came to apologise for my appalling deed and to say goodbye. I know I can’t be forgiven but believe me, it was never my intent to hurt you.’ She just stared at him with those petrified wide eyes. Those beautiful glistening divine eyes. ‘I’ll take my leave now, I won’t bother you again.’ He barely could hold back his tears.

Outside the mansion Marius was waiting for him. They crept away in the falling dusk and fled the city.

-

Albran stood up from the chair. She made an effort to walk to the door but her legs gave way and she crumpled on the floor.

_Go away,_ she silently cried, _go away go away go away. Leave me alone._

Like she had done after Anders had raped her, she curled into a ball and waited for her dark memories to disappear into that far away corner once more.

That’s how Fenris found her not much later.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

-

Fenris was raging heatedly, with Aveline at the recipient end of his burning anger. His markings were ablaze, matching the intense fiery look in his eyes. ‘How is this possible! How could you let that monster escape! You can’t be that incompetent!’ He was beside himself with fury and made sure the Guard Captain knew it.

He had found Albran not half an hour earlier in a situation that was so alarmingly similar to the one not long ago, that for a terrible moment he had been scared to death it had all happened once again. When she tried to explain, in bits and pieces, what actually had occurred, he had felt relieved and on the other hand had wanted to explode. He immediately had sent Bodahn to the Keep to fetch Aveline. After that he had carried Hawke to the couch, poured her a stiff drink and had simply held her, desperately trying to stay calm and to be a steady rock in her raging currents. Although she hadn’t wept this time, he could feel an occasional shiver ripple through her body. It hadn’t done anything to ease his mind but he had managed to hold back his rant and rave until the Guard Captain arrived. At that moment he hadn’t been able to restrain himself any longer. Now he was pacing the room, gesticulating passionately, venting not only his anger but also his shock and, last but not the least, the frustration of having failed to protect the woman he loved. Again.

Albran was numbly staring ahead, waiting for the brandy to kick in. Maker, she needed that kick.

Aveline, on her turn, was feeling utterly miserable and guilty. She still couldn’t believe what had happened. Donnic had stormed into her office to tell her about the bold escape. Before she could even recuperate from the impact of his words, he got followed by a highly frantic Bodahn with his disturbing message, which hadn’t helped much to relax her risen tension. With force she suppressed the impulse to shout back at Fenris; she feared it took little to nothing to let the elf literally ignite. She’d better try to calm him down.

‘There was very strong magic involved,’ she said meekly. It wasn’t an excuse. It only made it worse, she realised. ‘But rest assured, I have every guardsman that I can spare looking for him.’

‘You’d better,’ Fenris barked, giving her his best menacing scowl.

Aveline almost recoiled but instead straitened her shoulders. She was the Guard Captain, godsdamned. She would rather fall dead than be belittled by a Tevinter elf, no matter how righteous he felt.

In the awkward silence that fell, Albran mumbled, ‘I’m sorry. I lost it. I completely lost it. I should have punched him flat and I just sat there. I was petrified.’ The alcohol began to show some effect.

Fenris winced and his markings went out at once. He sat down next to her and took her hands into his. ‘Of course you were,’ he tried to soothe her. ‘Stop beating yourself up over it. _He_ is the wrongdoer, not you.’ He apprehended his fuming didn’t help to calm her down and he made a heroic effort to rein in his anger. He so very much wanted to strangle that abomination. He wanted to rip out his depraved heart. He wanted to hit him into a bloody pulp. He wanted him _dead_. Instead he clenched his jaw and forced himself to pull Albran close and draw his fingers gently through her dishevelled hair.

‘You should have dragged him to the Gallows,’ he couldn’t help growling at the same time at the Guard Captain. ‘Or at least posted a Templar outside his cell.’

Albran stirred in his arms and heaved her head. ‘Please Fenris, don’t shout at Aveline. After all, it was at my explicit bidding Meredith and her Templars were kept out of it,’ she pleaded hoarsely. Lovingly she laid a hand upon his cheek. ‘If you have to yell, yell at me. This mess is all but my stupid fault.’

Fenris’s hand moved from her hair to lift her chin. ‘Stop that nonsense,’ he said and as to emphasize his words he let his lips lightly brush hers. ‘None of this is your fault,’ he whispered on her lips. He softly trailed his fingers down her face and kissed her in full with all the tenderness he could muster.

Aveline was taken aback by this display of affection by the normally so taciturn elf. Not for a minute had she questioned the deep caring feelings he harboured for Hawke; he wasn’t the kind of person who would ask someone to marry him out of pity or benevolence. And the insinuation she had heard uttered by some of the nobles, that he was after her wealth and status, had just made her smile sardonically. The mere thought was preposterous. But to see him so openly give witness of his love was a real eye opener about people’s hidden traits of character.

Albran took a deep shuddering breath and rested her cheek against her lover’s. She was getting fed up with herself. Frankly, she was highly annoyed with her own behaviour and was starting to feel the urge of shaking herself out of her stupor. Yes, Anders suddenly popping up had been a shock beyond measure but that didn’t mean she had to wallow in it. Besides that, there was no need to upset her elf even more. But she could use a little back up. Resolutely she stood up from the sofa.

‘What are you doing?’ Fenris asked suspiciously, reluctant to let her go. And, besides that, he was worried about what she, in fact, _would_ do. Knowing her, she might as well have got it into her head that this moment would be the perfect one to hunt down and kill a high dragon to work off her anxiety.

‘Going for another Antivan brandy,’ she replied. ‘I have decided I’m done with bellyaching but I could do with another strong drink. As do you, I imagine,’ she smiled at Aveline. ‘And while we’re at it, I think you could use one also, my love. You look like you’re beyond the simple pleasure of drinking Aggrigio Parvali.’

He just stared at her. Not completely comprehending but, then again, completely mesmerised. Here he was, trying to comfort her and instead she succeeded in giving _him_ the peace and quiet he needed. How the hell did she do it? He leant back and followed her with his eyes.

Her legs still felt a little wobbly but she was determined to stop with feeling feeble and being the victim. She was the Champion, she had defeated the Arishok, damn it. She would _not_ allow herself to turn into a quivering and blubbering waif. Not again. Anders wasn’t worth it.  _And he is definitely not going to ruin my wedding day._ ‘And for the Maker’s sake, Aveline,’ she said while she was handing out the drinks, ‘stop fidgeting like a little berated schoolgirl and take a seat. This is not like you. You’re making me nervous just by looking at you.’

The Guard Captain and the elf shared a look. Aveline gave the latter a slightly crooked smile as if to say, _you_ _can bend her as much as you like, she will always bounce back._ Fenris returned her a sceptical silent answer. _Not always without help, though._

‘Now, would you be so kind as to tell me how Anders managed to escape out of your extremely well guarded dungeons?’ Hawke asked after she had retaken her place on the sofa. She had hardly flinched at pronouncing the mage’s name. ‘No sarcasm intended.’

‘Like I mentioned before, magic was used,’ Aveline explained. ‘But not by him. We made very sure he got his dose of magebane with every meal and even with every drop of water he drank. There is no way he could have performed any spell by himself, let alone such a potent one; he must have had outside help. Very skilled help, at that. Donnic found all the guards from his opened cell up to the ground floor fast asleep.’

‘The Mage Underground?’ Hawke suggested.

Aveline nodded. ‘The thought, of course, has crossed my mind. But we don’t know where they’re hiding or even if they have a headquarters of some sorts. You don’t happen to know more about them..?’

Albran took a sip of her brandy. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you there. Anders rarely spoke about the organisation. He just mentioned them once or twice. He said he didn’t want me to know to keep me safe.’

Fenris snorted derisively. Both women ignored it.

‘What exactly did he say to you?’ Aveline asked. ‘I mean, sorry if it disturbs you but every little bit of information helps.’

Hawke tilted her head, letting the strong liquid swirl in the crystal glass. The material caught a glint of the fire in the hearth and for a moment seemed to explode in sparkling fragments. She threw the Guard Captain an apologetically half smile. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to his words. His sudden appearance put me enough off balance as it was. But I don’t believe it was of much importance. Some blathering about how sorry he was and he would love me always and this was his goodbye and blah blah blah. Nothing of substance, I’m afraid.’

‘He didn’t drop a clue about where he was headed and with whom?’

‘None whatsoever. Sorry.’

The Guard Captain let out a sigh. She finished her drink and got up. ‘I have to go back to the Keep before everyone is running amok and Donnic has a seething Seneschal all over him. I will immediately let you know when we find something about Anders’s whereabouts. Or when we find anything at all.’ With that she took her leave.

When she had left, Albran and Fenris looked at each other. Albran was the first to react. She smiled brightly. ‘Well, since now you know all about _my_ day, I’d like to hear about yours. I want to learn everything about the suit-fitting-part and how Varric has been pestering you. And don’t leave out any detail. I think I’m entitled to some merriment.’

’Albran,’ Fenris said solemnly, ignoring her words; there was a slight tremor in his low husky voice. ‘After what happened, I’m not going to let you alone for just a single second.’ He cupped her face with both hands.

‘He’s gone; I don’t think he will harass me again.’

‘As long as he stays on the loose, he will remain a danger,’ Fenris pressed. ‘So I won’t leave your side.’

She smiled wanly. ‘If it makes you feel better –‘

‘It does.’

She nodded. ‘Alright then. But that was not an answer to my question.’

Fenris sighed, letting his hands fall into his lap. ‘They made me try on shoes.’

Hawke struggled to keep a composed face, or even to show some compassion, but failed gloriously. She burst out laughing.

‘It’s not funny,’ the elf said, sounding hurt.

‘I beg to differ,’ Albran giggled. ‘But I promise you, one day you will see it too.’

He thought it best to kiss her without further comment.

-

Anders and Marius were trekking along the Wounded Coast. A bright moon was shining, almost full, so it wasn’t difficult to see where they were going. Alternatively, though, it wouldn’t be a tough job for any pursuers to see _them_ hurrying along the sandy paths. Anders constantly looked over his shoulder, feeling on edge and very jumpy. What if they were caught? In that case the Guard Captain would, without doubt, skip the whole trial part and deliver him as a neat parcel to the Templars. Tranquility would follow soon after that and not only for him.

‘Don’t worry,’ Marius reassured him, seeing his restlessness. He most likely would have sensed it even had it been pitch dark. ‘The sleeping spell has probably only worn off just now, so they have hardly had time to start the chase. And they don’t know we left the city. I suppose they will comb Darktown and the sewers first.’

Anders let a sidelong glance linger upon his young apprentice. In this light he seemed to be even younger, with an aura of something unearthly. ‘How old are you, Marius?’ he asked.

‘Last summer I turned eighteen, master Anders.’

‘You’re very skilled for an eighteen year old mage,’ he remarked, ignoring that unappreciated “master” for the time being.

Marius shrugged. ‘My mother taught me a lot and taught me well; she was an excellent mage and she told me I was very talented.’

‘Your mother? She taught you – here, in Kirkwall?’ Anders cried out incredulously. He was flabbergasted. Some nerve that woman must have had. Or else a massive death wish.

‘We didn’t practice in the city,’ the boy smirked with glee. ‘That would have been suicide! No, we came here on the Wounded Coast or went to Sundermount for our lessons.’ His teeth flashed white in the rays of the moon which made his features even more attractive. It gave him a somewhat roguish appearance. Anders imagined the girls would swoon all over the young man with this infectious laugh, with his half long curly blonde hair and his handsome cheerful face in which his lively eyes shone. He was not only easy on the eye but also easy to like and easy to trust. Perhaps a little too easy, Anders mused. But then again, who was he to judge another person’s reliability. He cringed inwardly at the remembrance of Albran’s shaken expression earlier this night.

‘Have you ever loved someone, Marius?’

‘There were a couple of girls,’ Marius admitted, grinning. ‘But I wouldn’t call it love. According to what happened to you, I understand love can be quite dangerous. Maybe I should avoid it and just stick to the fun.’

‘Maybe that’s the best advice,’ Anders mumbled in agreement. The boy reminded him painfully of how he used to be before he merged with Justice. He changed the subject. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘To a cave in the north-east. We won’t stay there but I want you to meet somebody.’

Anders frowned. ‘Meet somebody? Who?’ His hackles rose involuntarily. He didn’t want to meet anyone; Marius’s company was almost too much.

‘You’ll see,’ Marius smiled. ‘You wouldn’t want me to spoil the surprise, would you?’

They covered the rest of the way in silence. When they finally reached the cave, Marius took a few torches form the stack at the entrance and lit them with a spark of magic. He led Anders through the system of corridors and rooms until they reached a small chamber. It was furnished with a wooden table, on which some candles burned, and four simple wooden chairs. One of those was occupied by a cloaked and hooded figure that stood when they entered. He uncovered his face.

‘Orsino?!’ Anders exclaimed, in great astonishment. ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

-

Anders was still staring wide-eyed at the First Enchanter, who hadn’t answered him yet. Orsino had sat down again and Anders had taken a seat as well. He accepted the mug of water Marius offered him. He craved for something stronger, far stronger. A big gulp of Antivan brandy, for instance. He would gladly have undergone the tiresome rant from Justice about the risks of imbibing alcohol, but he doubted his apprentice had stowed away a bottle of the stuff about his person or somewhere around the cave. So water it was.

‘How, how did you get here?’ he stammered, utterly confused.

‘More or less in the same way you did,’ Orsino replied dryly. ‘Although I started with taking a convenient secret tunnel someone has been excavating.’

Anders’s mouth went dry. _Shit, he knows about that. Later, let it rest for now._ ‘But isn’t it dangerous for you to leave the Gallows? What if Meredith finds out?’

The First Enchanter flashed him a toothy grin. ‘The Knight Commander has obligations elsewhere tonight. She’s having her weekly meeting with the Grand Cleric, to be precise. Usually she is in such a foul mood when she returns, that she locks herself into her chambers with a bottle of some strong liquid.’ Orsino smirked with grim satisfaction. ‘No, this night I have nothing to fear from Meredith.’

‘But what about the Templars?’ Anders still couldn’t get his mind around the idea of the First Enchanter simply walking out of the Gallows.

‘Do you think they are as vigilant as when she is around? They sooner amuse themselves with playing cards and gamble away their wages with dice games, than check whether the First Enchanter is still in his room or is wandering around Kirkwall, busy with scheming some nasty plot. I cannot stay long, though, no need to take more risks than necessary. So, let me come straight to the point. I know you are the leader of the Mage Underground Movement.’

Anders almost choked on his swallow of water. ‘How do you know?!’ he coughed, spitting drops around. One of the candle flames got hit, spluttered and extinguished.

‘I told him,’ Marius said calmly.

Anders turned sharply to his apprentice. ‘You did _what_?! Without asking my permission?!’

Marius shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You weren’t in a situation to be asked anything. I was hoping Orsino could help me to get you out of prison one way or another.’

‘And how did you get in and out of the Circle without being exposed as, in fact, being a mage?’Anders fumed. ‘Or did you also make use of the secret tunnel? It is meant as a road to freedom for mages who face the threat of being made tranquil, not as some kind of godsdamned highway or a boulevard for a leisurely stroll! You must have been completely out of your bloody mind!’

‘Now, calm down, Anders,’ Orsino interfered. ‘There’s no need to shout. Your young friend here is very cunning; he didn’t need the tunnel at all. He pretended to be my nephew from Ferelden who had just arrived with some bad news about the family, and he can be very persuasive.’ The short glance he exchanged with Marius totally escaped Anders, who was still too enraged to notice anything. ‘As you might know, one of the few perks of my position is being allowed to have visitors without planning weeks in advance, so the Templars who were on guard duty let him pass without any problem.’

Anders gaped at the both of them. ‘Have you any idea what’s at stake here? If you had been caught,’ he pointed angrily at Marius, ‘the damage would have been unimaginable!’

‘I’m very good at not getting caught,’ the boy replied airily. ‘The Templars won’t find out I’m a mage. I told you I had a very good teacher.’

‘Perhaps the two of you can bicker about this another time,’ the First Enchanter suggested. ‘Let us return to the business at hand. I’ve been pondering the idea of searching for the Mage Underground Movement for quite a while now. I even made some effort to find your whereabouts but without avail. Of course I had little to no means to start with and you hide yourselves extremely well. So you can imagine my surprise when this young man suddenly turned up.’

Anders was fidgeting on his stool. He didn’t like it at all the First Enchanter was informed about him being the Mage Underground’s leader. Not that he distrusted the elf, but it was so easy to let some vital information slip. He only had to utter some words to a confident who on their turn did the same, and before you knew it Meredith got wind of it. But there was no use to criticize Marius, the damage was already done; he could only hope Orsino would keep his mouth shut. But then the realization of the serious situation he was in hit home. _On the other hand,_ he mused wryly, _it doesn’t matter at all, does it. I’m on the run anyhow. Oh well..._

‘Why did you want to search for the Movement? It is dangerous, for you as well as for us.’ He might be a known fugitive by now, others weren’t.

‘I’m well aware of that,’ Orsino replied. ‘But things are rapidly going dire. Have you heard of a Templar called Thrask?’

‘The name does ring a bell,’ Anders nodded.

‘I had a secret meeting with him a while ago. He is concerned about Meredith; he thinks she’s going mad. She has gone as far as accusing some of her own Templars of being mages. He is trying to find support, very cautiously of course, to find a way to bring her down. Within the Circle we have no freedom of movement; our hands are bound, almost literally. You, however, lead a group of free mages. He – we need your help to reach our goal.’

‘And how do figure I could be of assistance?’ Anders asked scornfully. He waved around and added ruefully, ‘The reason we are here, in this remote spot on the Wounded Coast, is because I find myself in an – awkward predicament.’ He hung his head. ‘I suppose you know what I’ve done, why I was imprisoned,’ he softly let follow.

‘I do and I disapprove. Highly, as you may understand. I can only hope you are sorry for your action.’

Anders thought at the horrified look on Albran’s face and shuddered inwardly. ‘You have no idea,’ he whispered.

For a moment Orsino studied the man’s expression in the gloomy light the few candles cast. He seemed to look genuinely remorseful. He condemned his deed but had no choice in the matter. He simply needed him. ‘We have, however, other problems to worry about right now,’ he thus continued, leaving the delicate issue behind.

‘How appealing it may sound to overthrow Meredith, I cannot exactly act as freely as before,’ Anders protested. ‘I have the entire Guard at my tail and probably within no time all of the Templars as well. I may be out of the dungeons of the Keep but I’m not a free man any longer.’

‘Meredith knows nothing about your deed.’

‘That will just be a matter of days, perhaps even hours. I’m a wanted man. An outlaw. How can _I_ be of any use?!’ 

 _‘Don’t be such a stubborn idiot!’_ Justice boomed in his head. _‘Here you are, getting the opportunity to work with the Circle to free mages, delivered on a silver platter, and you back away. Grab it, you fool!’_

The First Enchanter stood and wrapped himself again in his cloak. ‘You already had to keep cover, nothing much has changed. Wanted or not, you can be of great value to our cause. Would you at least consider it?’ He lingered at the entrance, waiting for an answer.

Anders hesitated. ‘Alright,’ he said at last, although reluctantly. ‘You can count on me. Tell me what you want me to do.’

‘We will keep in touch through your apprentice – my “nephew”.’ He showed a brief smile and nodded at the young mage. ‘When I need you to take action, I will let you know.’ And with that he strode out of the chamber, leaving a pensive Anders and a relieved Marius behind.

-

‘I truly can’t grasp the reason why we are bothering with this.’

Not long after Aveline had left, Hawke and Fenris had moved to the dining room. It had been late, but none of them would have been able to sleep after what had occurred. So they had decided to open a bottle of wine, instead of going to bed. To Fenris’s dismay, Albran had insisted it was a perfect opportunity to sort out the table arrangement for the wedding dinner. They had been going over the intricate puzzle for ages by now, with a lot of name cards being spread out before them on the large table. It was getting on Fenris’s nerves. He didn’t know half of the people who apparently had to be present at the wedding festivities, and in the other half he _had_ heard of he wasn’t interested. They could be eaten by a dragon or perish in a sudden outbreak of a hideous pest, as far as he was concerned. But he could object to the mind numbing job as much as he wanted, Albran had put her foot down.

‘We’ll have to do this anyway,’ she had waylaid his protests. ‘And it’s a nice diversion from what happened earlier.’

 _A nice diversion ... yeah right._ If she wanted a diversion, a nice one no less, he could think of one or two other activities. The elf drummed irritably with his slender fingers on the wooden table-top. ‘I really don’t see why it’s so important why Lord This and That can’t be seated next to Lady I Don’t Care,’ he grumbled.

‘To prevent a major high society fracas. If we allow the Montforts sitting within ten meters from the de Launcets, for example, they will be at each other’s throats during the whole dinner,’ Albran tried to make clear. ‘And then I’m talking about the good scenario.’ She poured him another glass of wine.

‘So, let them,’ Fenris said, fractiously. ‘Who cares.’

‘I do,’ Albran stated. ‘I want to be able to enjoy my dinner in peace without heated discussions and icy insinuations taking place all around me.’

Fenris looked fiercely at her, not willing to give in. Worse even, he broached another subject of annoyance. ‘And while we’re at it, why do we have to invite that insufferable Seneschal Bran? He hasn’t shown anything but contempt for you. I don’t see why we should tolerate him on what supposedly is to be _our_ day.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt dangerously close to rebellion right now.

To be honest, _everything_ about the marriage was getting on his nerves. He still shuddered at the memory of Varric dragging him along Hightown from one shoe shop to the other with that angelic expression plastered on his face that only meant he was out for trouble. He had got the feeling it was payback for some wrongdoing he hadn’t been aware of committing. He had never known there were that many shoe shops in Kirkwall. However, he was convinced he had seen them all. And, of course, in the end they had bought the pair of shoes Varric undoubtedly had set his mind upon ages before, in the very first shop the bloody dwarf had pushed him in, to be precise. All the time Sebastian had accompanied them but he had drawn little solace out of his presence. Most of the time Choirboy, no, damn it, _Chantry brother_ , he corrected himself – _venhedis_ , he had been so wound up by then that he had copied Varric’s choice of phrase and still did it at this very moment –  had ardently exchanged whispered words with Varric, while the shoes salesmen had hovered around him like irritating droning insects. They had been even worse than the dressmakers. For one reason or another, the two males hadn’t seem to have an argument – for once. He had got the impression they were conferring about something important. Probably how to make his day even more miserable, he had thought sourly.

When he had pictured the important day, if he had pictured anything at all about such a thing the moment he had asked Albran to marry him, he had thought about signing some papers and having a small exclusive party for their friends. Not this explosion of unwanted activities. And the worst part was that _she_ seemed to revel in it. He remembered Varric’s remark about the bride trying on wedding dresses and actually enjoying it. He couldn’t fathom it. He got dragged out of his dark musings by her bright voice.

‘Yes, my love, I’m afraid we have to invite Seneschal Bran the Insufferable. Besides the fact we cannot ignore him, I owe him a favour.’

He got alarmed. ‘A favour? What kind of favour?’ In his opinion it didn’t pay off to be in debt to people with influence. Worse even, it was outright dangerous.

She smiled enigmatically. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

He opened his mouth to utter an objection but just in time thought the better of it and let it rest.

‘Favour or no, you still haven’t convinced me why we should invite that intolerable prig,’ he groused.

‘Because he _is_ the Seneschal, love,’ she explained patiently. ‘We can’t overlook him. Just as we can’t overlook bitch Meredith or my dreadful uncle.’ Her eyes flared bright. ‘What about we have Uncle Gamlen sit next to Bran or opposite Meredith at the grand dinner? That certainly will provide for a laugh or two?’

Fenris just sighed and took a sip of his wine.

-

Orsino was restlessly pacing his room. He wondered for the umpteenth time if he had done the right thing; whether he had made the right choices or had made it only worse. But desperate times called for desperate measures, he tried to defend his decision to himself, even if those measures contained lies, deceit and involving the Tevinter Imperium. 

Of course he had known for a long time about the so called Mage Underground Movement – he had his contacts, after all. Contacts that weren’t as gullible and blind as the Templars and didn’t overlook signs as “Mum will protect you”, or the little note that was found in the Undercity by an attentive spy, saying, “Mum wants you to come home”. The very spy had caught the meaning of the message and had attended the meeting after she had managed to find the right place in the sewers. The night after that meeting one of the Circle mages had disappeared.

He also had known Anders was their leader but he had, until now, been reluctant to approach him, simply because he was a part of the Champion’s entourage. He couldn’t be certain he would keep their cooperation a secret to her and even less how she would react if she found out. Albran Hawke wasn’t exactly known as a mage-hater, sooner the opposite, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t betray their plans. But that problem was solved; Anders would never be a part of her circle again.

And yes, the Tevinter Imperium.

In his trepidation, and after a long time of hesitation and consideration, he had sent the Archon and his senators of the Magisterium a letter to ask for advice. They had sent him Marius. He had been surprised, to put it mildly, but the boy had convinced him in no time that he would find the solution for the fast growing problem named Meredith. Although he wanted to trust the young mage, he had the nagging feeling there was something strange about him he couldn’t put his finger upon. But there was little he could do about it at the moment.

The best thing to do was to watch out for him and keep Thrask out of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

-

Hawke had barely set a foot in the Hanged Man, when she almost stumbled over a bucket filled with grimy water. Just in time Fenris reached out and caught her before she fell flat on her face. She noticed Norah, who was balancing on a stepladder with some kind of broom in her hands. The barmaid was washing the windows. _She was actually washing the windows._

‘What are you doing?’ Albran asked utterly confused, hanging defencelessly in Fenris’s arms. Her brain refused to accept what her eyes were witnessing. This couldn’t be the same Norah who always gave everything even remotely resembling cleaning utensils a wide berth.

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ the barmaid answered, sounding disdainfully. ‘I’m cleaning.’ She stooped and dunked the broom into the bucket with more force than per se necessary.

Almost hypnotized Hawke followed Norah’s perplexing actions. ‘So my eyes don’t deceive me,’ she mumbled. ‘What has been done to you? I mean, why are you doing this?’ She still didn’t believe what she was observing.

‘Varric’s orders. He said the place had to be spic and span,’ Norah said reproachfully. Briskly she lifted the broom up again, spraying her spectators with dirty water, and started industriously polishing the windowpane once more. Although she more or less spread the dirt around in a thin layer, it seemed to be getting lighter in the tavern, as if the rays of the morning sun finally got the opportunity to peep through the window. Hawke hoped the heavenly body wouldn’t decide at the spot to have a spontaneous combustion or a solar eclipse out of naked shock.

With some assistance from Fenris she managed to stand straight but kept holding on to the elf’s arm in case she would keel over out of pure bewilderment. They shared a stunned look. ‘And since when do you obey Varric?’

‘Since he is paying handsomely for it,’ Norah said defiantly. ‘I can use the extra money.’

‘Of course,’ Hawke mumbled, still not comprehending.

They ascended the stairs and entered Varric’s room.

‘Care to explain why Norah is acting like some kind of charwoman?’ Hawke blurted out even before the dwarf got the chance to greet her. ‘On your orders no less!’

Varric beamed broadly at them, fervently trying to hide his surprise. Hawke didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to, but it didn’t escape Fenris. ‘Ah, the happy couple. I didn’t expect you here at this time of the day, to be honest, but so nice to see you! Have a seat. And a drink.’ He motioned with a generous gesture to the bottles and pitchers on the table.

Only now Hawke saw Sebastian was present; he looked a bit flushed and it seemed he hurriedly tried to conceal a bundle of paper. He almost knocked over the inkwell in his haste. It was peculiar behaviour but Albran decided it could wait. ‘Well?’ she persisted while she flopped down in a chair.

Varric and Sebastian looked somewhat flustered at each other. ‘You don’t want to spend the night before your wedding day in a dirty environment, do you?’ the dwarf carefully said.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Hawke got the feeling she was trapped in some kind of bad play and she was the only one who didn’t get the plot.

‘No one told you yet?’ Varric seemed to be a little nervous. He pointed accusingly at Fenris. ‘You promised you would tell her!’

‘I promised no such thing,’ the elf countered defensively. ‘I can’t even remember you mentioned anything about whatever it is I should have told Albran.’ He reached for a bottle of wine. ‘I was undoubtedly far too busy swatting away obtrusive shoe salesmen,’ he added dourly.

Suspiciously Hawke glared at the dwarf. ‘What haven’t I been told?’

‘Alright then,’ mumbled Varric, ‘here it goes.’ He took a deep breath and proclaimed, ‘We have decided you’re sleeping here the night before you get married.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Hawke flew up, turning into the personification of raw indignity within an instant. ‘Just like that? Without consulting me? And who has come up with that ridiculous suggestion?!’

‘I already said she would take it badly,’ Varric murmured to Sebastian.

‘But it is tradition!’ the Chantry brother as good as wailed. ‘The groom collects the bride at her parents’ home!’

Hawke glowered at him. ‘I admit I spend quite a lot of time in this grubby place, but I can hardly call the Hanged Man my home, let alone that of my parents,’ she sneered. ‘Besides the fact I haven’t got any left.’

‘No,’ Varric, bravely trying to hold his wits together, told her boldly, ‘but I’m the one who is giving you away; that’s as close to a father as it can get. And I happen to live under this roof, so you can consider it your parent’s home.’

Hawke didn’t know what to say, too taken aback to find words. She just squinted incredulously at the dwarf. _Father??_

‘I think Bianca would very much like to know where you acquired a daughter, and I’m fairly positive she is not going to like any explanation,’ Fenris said with his best poker face. For the first time he was starting to enjoy the wedding preparations. At any rate he was definitely not any longer the only one who was suffering; the two males at the other side of the table looked very uncomfortable. The dwarf in particular wore an outright panicky expression and Sebastian was a good runner-up, looking as if he had been scolded by the Divine herself. He considered it sweet revenge for all the things they had put him through, the other day.

Varric fluttered his hands vehemently. ‘Let’s forgo the parent issue, shall we?’ He stole a glance at his beloved crossbow, sitting on the mantelpiece, as if he was afraid she would suddenly threaten to make a colander out of him. ‘There is another very good reason not to stay in your own house on your last night as a bachelorette.’

‘I burn with curiosity to hear it,’ Albran bit sarcastically.

‘You don’t want the nobles to be present in the Alienage to avoid trouble and I’ve been made to understand you don’t want them to know about it until the night before your big day, again to avoid trouble. But what, do you think, will happen the moment you step out of your house on the joyous morning? They’ll have been lying behind the bushes, or rather will have forced their servants to do so, waiting to intercept, follow or even harass you. In short, trouble all over the place. I’m certain Aveline will be very grateful. She’ll be having enough difficulties as it is to quieten them down, even with the assistance of the Seneschal.’

Reluctantly Albran had to admit he had a point. ‘In that case Fenris should sleep here as well. They will harass him even more viciously.’

‘But that’s against the tradition and –‘ Sebastian started.

Hawke flared up. ‘You can take your bloody tradition and shove it –‘

Fenris grabbed her wrist. ‘Try to calm down, love.’

‘What?! You agree with him?’ she spat angrily. ‘I will _not_ be patronized!’ To emphasise her words she grabbed with her free hand an earthen mug and slammed it hard on the table. The crockery broke and the contents streamed over the surface. They all stared at it in mild shock.

Fenris smiled crookedly. ‘See, that’s the reason I never heard, let alone remembered, anything about confronting Albran with a fait accompli, especially one that doesn’t sit well with her. Call it an odd habit, but I’m rather attached to my life.’

Albran deflated and slumped back in her chair. She knew she was overreacting and realised she was on edge. The whole stupid Anders affair affected her more than she wished it did and that irritated her. Better to come out with it, no need to beat about the bush. ‘Anders escaped,’ she bluntly blurted out, ‘yesterday evening. And he popped up in my house. As a matter of fact, that’s the reason why we’re here at this early hour. To tell you.’

A heavy, almost palpable silence fell. Fenris put an arm around her shoulders and she gratefully leant against his shoulder. ‘It is no excuse for my behaviour but - ’

‘I think it’s a perfect legitimate excuse,’ Varric interrupted her. ‘In fact, legitimate enough to drag Rivaini out of her bed. Choirboy, run to the Alienage and fetch Merrill. This calls for a serious meeting. I take it Aveline has already organized the chase?’ Hawke just nodded. ‘Good. Then we will discuss about _our_ contribution.’ And he bolted out of his room, yelling to Isabela to get her lazy ass out of the sack before he even reached the door to her room.

Albran was thankful he didn’t bother with useless questions about how and why, although she wondered what the dwarf thought they would be able to accomplish without hindering the Guard and thus enraging Aveline.

-

Marius stood looking down on Anders’s sleeping form. The mage had insisted on leaving the cave where they had met with Orsino, stating that it might seem a good place to hide but could turn into a dead-end trap. So now they were camping in the open air, somewhere between the Wounded Coast and Sundermount. As soon as they had reached this small clearing, hidden between trees and thickets, Anders had sunk down and immediately fell asleep. Marius understood he was exhausted, not only because of all the events of the past night, but also because of the energy it cost to restore the flow of magic, now the effect of the magebane waned.

Up until now everything had gone smoothly, he mused, perhaps a little too smoothly. He had been in this cursed city for a couple of months by now and had adapted rather fast, despite the fact he was still baffled by the way mages were treated and hunted down. And perhaps even more by how the mages hardly resisted. Yes, there was the Mage Underground Movement but they achieved nothing more than occasionally free a mage out of the Gallows, and thought themselves heroes for it. True, it wasn’t easy with that paranoid Knight Commander in charge, but nevertheless he was convinced they could start a revolution, provided they’d come with a thought-out plan. And that’s what he was here for. The instructions he had been given by the Archon in name of the Senate were clear: “Spread chaos in Kirkwall and see to it that the Knight Commander will be thrown down. After that we will take over.”

He had started with looking around to orient himself in this unknown environment. He had hired a room in a hovel in Lowtown. The landlady was an elderly grumpy woman but not the inquisitive kind and never questioned his coming and going. Not long after that, he learned about the existence of the Mage Underground and discovered were they hung out: mostly in the sewers. He thought it pathetic but was cautious not to show that sentiment. He had lied about his age, among other things. He was twenty-six years old but he knew he looked much younger, especially with that curly hair he had grown half long only for that purpose. But he had reasoned that an enthusiastically eighteen year old apostate (with an invented skilled mother as his tutor), in all his eagerness to thwart the Templars, would easily be accepted and trusted. With persuading flair he had played the role of the young mage, keen to learn and excited to go on missions.

At the same time he had managed to hide his own talents, especially the one that was exceptionally rare but extremely effective, if practiced with care and discretion. He belonged to the very exclusive, very small group of mages gifted with the power of natural mind magic. Blood mages could apply it too, but only in a raw and obvious way. He could wield it with such subtlety that it was almost untraceable, just a delicate push here and gentle pull there. Even Orsino hadn’t been aware of it.

His first goal had been to influence Anders so that he would confine in him and make him his apprentice. He had been unpleasantly surprised to find that spirit of Justice entwined with his essence. It was one thing to manipulate a mortal being, but trying to get control over a creature of the Fade was something completely different. It had taken him more time than he had hoped, but in the end he succeeded to turn it into his advantage. He made Anders believe the little nudges in his mind were caused by his private spirit and Justice was too occupied with his personal Exalted March against the injustice done to mages, to pay attention to his subtle meddling. In fact, the spirit thought it was his own doing.

He regretted he had been forced to take such a radical decision as to let Anders rape the Champion. But he hadn’t been able to find another solution than to use Anders’s love for the woman, blazing so brightly in his mind, to push him over the edge, while at the same time convincing him he did it himself, or at the most with some pressing from Justice. That afterwards Anders would run to the Chantry brother had been a nasty twist of events he had absolutely not anticipated. He had cursed the man for his rash and utterly stupid action but, in hind side, freeing him out of the Keep had been the easiest part of the whole enterprise. Putting the guards to sleep had been simple for a mage as gifted as he was; the only tricky thing was not to wake Anders’s suspicion about the true size of his powers. It was essential the older mage kept thinking he was the leader, that he was taking the decisions. It was a general known fact that the one behind the throne, to put it that way, was the one with the most authority. Marius winced. Calling Anders “master” was the only mistake he had made till now. He had smoothed it away but he must be careful it stayed his only error.

Stage one of the plan had been completed. He had made the head of the Mage Underground Movement vulnerable and depending on him without putting him out of action. He had made the First Enchanter an accomplice, leaving him no choice than to listen to him and follow his lead. The first important steps towards revolution had been taken. He smiled thinly. In retrospect that obsessed spirit with its fanatical rants about mage rebellion would come in handy.

He permitted himself a moment to mull over his second assignment.

Anders had revealed little to nothing about his private life and although Marius excelled in mind magic, it didn’t go that far he could literally read minds. Of course he knew his “master” had befriended Albran Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall and how deep his love for her ran. After all, he had blatantly made use of that knowledge. And he hadn’t had to expose himself to find out who also belonged to her circle of friends. The only problem was how to approach her without casting suspicion on himself. The woman did have a lot of enemies and wouldn’t be inclined to trust someone just like that, not even if that someone was a handsome, charming young man with innocent radiant eyes and a disarming smile. He suspected he wouldn’t even get the chance to come close to her. But he had taken the time and opportunity to observe her companions and had found one in particular suitable to make contact with. And he knew exactly the place to get in touch and the subject to start a conversation.

Beyond dispute his first and most important duty was to fulfil the task the Archon had given him. But since senator Danarius had promised him a large reward if he managed to deliver back his priceless pet, he was willing to consider the possibilities to capture the elf and hold him prisoner in some safe spot until the chaos in Kirkwall was complete and the reign of the dangerous Knight Commander had come to an end. After that it wouldn’t be too hard to return to Minrathous with his prize. He knew one or two well-tried methods to incapacitate a with lyrium infused warrior.

Anders stirred and made a faint sound, starting to wake up. Right. Time to focus again and carry on with the key charge.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sex!
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 6

-

Fenris woke with a start. Someone was nuzzling his neck. It wasn’t unpleasant, far from that, but he had the feeling he had only just fallen asleep. His head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. Had he been drinking the other night? Not that he could remember. He cracked his eyes open and met darkness, or at most the glum light cast by an almost extinguished fire in the hearth and a single burning candle. It couldn’t be full morning yet. Bloody hell, what was she up to?

‘Sleepyhead,’ a very well-known soft voice purred into his ear, the voice belonging to the woman who could be up to anything. ‘Wake up. It is time for the surprise I promised you.’

Her warm breath floated around him but he wasn’t willing to give in. ‘If the surprise consists of waking me up at this ungodly hour, you could have spared yourself the trouble,’ he mumbled. ‘Let me sleep!’ He buried his face into the pillow but some determined hands ripped the covers off the bed and left him naked and defenceless. Without the warmth of the blankets and sheets to protect him, the cold air hit him like an icy shower. He flew up to win back the covers but Albran tossed them at the foot of the bed. In return she threw him some clothes.

‘Get dressed, sweetheart, we have to be in the Keep within half an hour.’

‘What? Why?!’ He was wide awake by now and didn’t like it one bit.

She handed him a cup of steaming coffee. ‘Surprise, remember.’

Without any other explanation she waltzed out of the bedroom, leaving him totally bewildered and rather grumpy.

Only now he realised they had been tracking the Wounded Coast for the best part of yesterday, vainly trying to find that wretched abomination. It had been Varric’s brilliant proposal. The dwarf had stated the Guard would be busy with combing the sewers and the Undercity and Anders would have anticipated that. So, he had reasoned, the last place to find him would be in those specific spots. They’d better begin looking outside the city and as the intricate cave system of the Wounded Coast provided for the perfect hiding places, they would start their search there. Albran hadn’t contradicted his words and he had had to admit the idea had appealed to him, although he had been quite stunned by the vicious determination in Varric’s voice. Apparently the dwarf was more outraged about what Anders had done than he had shown outwardly thus far. So they had set off to search out every remote spot and every hidden cave for a trace of the escaped mage. They had found nothing. He and Albran had returned to the mansion in the dead of night, utterly tired and frustrated.

He took an angry sip from the cup of coffee she had pushed into his hands and almost burned his tongue. He cursed. No wonder he had the feeling he had had no sleep at all. No wonder he felt like this; he _had_ had just a few hours of sleep before she had hauled him out of it and for what..? And how did she manage to be so cheerful?

With a heavy sigh he put the coffee aside and started to dress himself. Undoubtedly this would turn out to be another dreadful day, filled with appalling wedding things he hadn’t even dreamed would happen, and a new worthless plan to catch Anders.

-

 Albran was waiting for him in the parlour, looking radiant as if _she_ hadn’t missed a good deal of a night’s sleep. She slipped her arm into his.

‘Whatever happens next, remember I love you. And it was you who set this all in motion,’ she said. It sounded ominous.

He shot her a dark look. ‘Would you hate me if I said I regret the moment I asked you to marry me?’ he grumbled. At the same time he cringed when the impact of his words got through to him but she didn’t seem to take offence. Instead, to his relief, she just sniggered. She opened the front door and they walked into the cool, far too early morning air.

‘No, love, I don’t hate you for it.’ While she led him to the Keep, hanging on to his arm, she cocked her head. ‘As a matter of fact, I perfectly understand why you just said that.’ She paused for a moment. ‘That is, as long as you’re referring to the preparations and not to me.’

He halted in mid-pace, making her tripping over her feet. He deftly caught her despite the upcoming alarm. ‘You don’t really think I regret asking you to be my wife?’ He almost panicked.

She tapped his hand ‘Of course not. But I can imagine you never – oh hell, I can repeat all the awkward situations you found yourself in over the last period of time.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry about that but I hope I will make it up to you today.’ She started walking again, leaving him even more puzzled.

They entered the Keep and to Fenris’s astonishment Seneschal Bran was waiting for them at this ridiculous early hour. He nodded at Albran. She smiled back. ‘I trust everything is as I asked for ..?’

Bran raised his hand even before she could finish her question.

‘Of course. If you will follow me?’ He started to ascend the stairs to the former office of the deceased Viscount and Albran hauled a bewildered Fenris along. When they had entered the room, Bran walked around the impressive desk and took a seat in the even so impressive chair. He ruffled through the papers lying in front of him.

Only now Fenris noticed the presence of a Chantry sister. He blinked. Not just any sister but Her Grace herself, he corrected himself, getting more baffled by the minute. Elthina smiled graciously at him.

‘Serah Hawke,’ the Seneschal started, looking up from his papers, ‘it is because of your urgent request we are together here this morning. As you know I don’t agree with this marriage –‘ His voice faltered when met the cold gaze of the elf. He coughed uncomfortably and resumed, ‘I mean the way you want to implement the ... the actual ceremony in the...‘ He tailed off altogether.

Before he could make an utter fool of himself, the Grand Cleric stepped forward and took the floor. ‘Of course we are more than pleased that two people want to give witness of their love for each other. Be it in the Chantry, the Keep or the Alienage.’

Fenris stared blankly at her, still not knowing where this would lead to. He could _feel_ Albran smirk, though. Again, what was that woman up to?!

‘As you so brilliantly remarked during the conversation we had a few days ago, Messere Hawke,’ Elthina continued, ‘I have very seldom the pleasure to join a couple into holy matrimony that really love each other, because the nobles I usually marry are just out for money, power and status. Therefore it pleases me more than I can say to give my blessing to two persons who want to express their fondness for one another without an ulterior motive.’ She turned to him. ‘I trust you have brought the rings?’

The what? Rings? Now he started to panic in earnest. Yes, there existed something as important as rings. And the beauty of it was they hadn’t have to buy them. They had come with the estate as some kind of heirloom. The little pieces of jewelry had belonged to some ancestors and since he wasn’t very good with ancestor- business, what with his background of not having any family at all, he hadn’t given it a second thought. But he had no clue whatsoever of where they were right at this very moment.

And then he felt Albran fumbling something into his hand. He caught her reassuring expression and suddenly calmness descended upon him.

In a flash he understood. Of course. She wanted to avoid the tension as much as he did. She wanted the moment of getting married, the moment of officially being connected together... He tried to catch the breath that suddenly escaped him... She wanted the moment to be intimate. Just for the two of them. Without all the commotion of wound up nobles, excited elves and even without their well meaning but too fussing friends. Maker! He wanted to embrace her, he wanted to fall on his knees for her, he wanted to state his everlasting love for her. He braced himself. That was exactly what they were here for, wasn’t it. With a broad grin he presented the rings to Her Grace. ‘I believe I do.’

Elthina accepted courteously.

Everything she said passed over him; he just had eyes for Albran. She looked more beautiful than ever, even in her common day outfit. She glowed with so much happiness he could drown in it. He just managed to put the ancestory ring on her finger, say “I do” on the right moment and sign the papers Bran shoved under his nose with a rather sour face, and to catch the five most important words. ‘You may kiss the bride.’ And he did. With all his heart and soul.

-

He almost floated down the stairs leading from the Keep to the mansion – their mansion, all the way aware of the feeling of the new ring on his finger, the ring that witnessed of his love for her, when she said in a small voice, ‘Please don’t be angry with me. I didn’t want to force you into anything.’ He stopped to take her into his arms and kiss her passionately. When he let go of her she exhaled relieved. ‘I take that as an approval. Good.’ She beamed at him. ‘Time for part two of the surprise.’

Stupefied he let himself being pulled into the house. _Part two?_

‘Orana,’ she called out, hardly over the threshold. The petite elf ran into the hall, holding a wicker picnic basket she handed over to Albran. She got followed by Bodahn who was carrying a blanket he pushed into the hands of the stunned Fenris.

Albran took the time to thank and cuddle both of her servants but then determinedly took Fenris’s arm and dragged him outside once more.

‘Care to tell me where you are taking me to this time?’ he asked, more or less surprised he could still find his voice.

‘The Wounded Coast,’ she grinned. And he was none the wiser.

-

After they had finally reached her goal, he had to admit it had been worth all the struggles. He thought he knew every path in the area but, of course, it turned out he didn’t. She guided him over a trail, hidden between two rocky outcrops, which seemed nothing more than a narrow track for wildlife. Very small wildlife. They almost had to squeeze through it. But after a steep climb down, the trail ended at a little lake surrounded by low hills, overgrown by green bushes and colourful flowers, even in this season. The temperature seemed to have risen several degrees. It was like a little piece of paradise.

Albran waved at the lovely, secluded place. ‘You can swim here even in winter. The lake is fed by a warm water spring.’ She looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘No-one knows of this place.’ She pointed at the picnic basket dangling at her arm. ‘Consider it some kind of wedding present,’ she beamed, ‘a whole day only for us in something like a natural bathhouse.’

‘No running along Kirkwall for suits and shoes, no table arrangements, no discussions about safety measures, no bickering about where to sleep ..?’ It almost seemed too good to be true.

Albran chortled while she put down the wicker basket. ‘None of those tortures today, my love. Just you and me.’ Before he could react she undressed in a breath and ran into the water. She dived and emerged again in the middle of the lake. Her merry laugh resonated against the rocks that surrounded the water and rippled over the surface. ‘What are you waiting for?!’

He threw down the blanket, stripped off his clothes and went after her. Despite her words he was surprised to find the water was indeed warm. With long, powerful strokes he swam to her. She was treading water and he easily caught up with her. His arms embraced her waist and she tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. His lips touched hers in a delicate way. ‘It seems we have too little time nowadays to pay attention to each other,’ he whispered. ‘And may I add,’ he kissed her so tenderly it shot shivers down her spine, ‘we have hardly been together at that.‘

‘Hence this day,’ she smiled, holding on to him. ‘I may like the wedding preparations more than you do, which isn’t that difficult, apparently, but I miss our precious time together. There should be far more of it.’

He took advantage of the moment to press her body close to his and nibbled her lower lip. She moaned softly and opened her mouth to let his tongue slip in. He moved one hand to the nape of her neck to steady her head and took his time to explore the cavern of her mouth. It seemed too long ago since he had been able to do this properly. He exhilarated in the feeling of her texture and the taste of sweet mint mixed with the tang of the black coffee she had drunk this morning. He was aware of every inch of her skin that touched his while they were floating in the water. He wanted to feel more of her. He wanted to feel everything.

They were abruptly forced to break their kiss when they involuntarily ducked under the surface. She fled his arms with a moist giggle that escaped her with a few bubbles, and started to swim across the small lake to a few low boulders that surrounded a little stony beach, inviting him to chase her once again. He was more than willing to comply. He grabbed her ankle when she tried to get out of the lake and pushed her behind close to him, rising from the water while holding her tightly. At this point the water level only reached as high as his knees. He let his lips wander over her shoulder while his hands travelled along to cup her breasts. She threw her head back when he sunk his teeth gently in the crook between her collarbone and neck and greedily massaged her nipples that hardened under his touch. His name escaped her lips in a longing sigh which aroused him even more. She turned her head to catch his mouth once again and this time their tongues entwined in a frenzied dance.

He let go of her breasts and let his hands glide smoothly along her stomach. She whimpered in his mouth when his fingers touched her swollen pearl. She bucked when he slowly started to encircle her sensitive spot while his other hand went further down to caress her inner thigh. She left his mouth and turned her head, resting her hands against a boulder, seeking some kind of counterpoise to push her frame even firmer to his. She cried out when he feathered over her moist folds and then entered her with his finger. He groaned when he found her warm feminine wetness and slowly added a second finger which earned him an encouraging and low sultry growl. She excitedly went along with his inciting movements and he pressed his hardened length against her bottom to let her feel he was as eager as she was. She reached for him and took his shaft in her hand. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feeling of her holding him, stroking him, of her fingers grasping him tightly and her thumb rubbing his tip. His lips descended on her neck once more and his tongue hungrily tasted the intoxicating flavour of her skin. Her breath hitched and her sheath tightened the moment her orgasm took possession of her body. Her hand clamped fiercely around his erection while she let go of all sanity. Her body shook violently and he kept kissing and licking every spot of her skin available while he let her ride out her height, trying to hold back his own. It would be so easy to let go, but he wanted to come inside her, especially on this day.

When she had calmed down somewhat, he turned her. He held her stable with his arms and pushed her legs open with one knee. His heart was pounding lake mad, he had never longed so much for her like now. He sought her mouth again and while his tongue captured hers he buried himself with one brutal thrust deep inside her core that was still dripping with the fluids of her peak. She flew her arms and legs around him, her back leaning against the boulder, and surrendered herself completely to him. He forced himself to stay motionless, revelling in this moment of utter connection. He breathed her name on her lips and she responded with a barely suppressed sob. He started a slow pace, pulling himself almost out of her and then pushing back in, gliding through her inviting heat. But it didn’t take long before he couldn’t restrain himself and pounded into her with a passionate rhythm. He felt the pressure building up in the lower part of his body and the moment he couldn’t hold back any longer she screamed out his name and her sheath fastened around his member. With a feral growl he emptied himself deep inside her.

Slowly they sank on their knees into the warmth of the lake, still holding on to each other. He lay down slowly on his back in the shallow waters, taking her with her in his arms.

‘My love,’ he breathed in her wet hair, ‘my _wife_.’

The tenderness with which he spoke that last word brought her to tears. ‘My husband,’ she whispered.

He took her face in his hands. ‘Thank you for this day. Thank you for you.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hawke and Fenris slowly swam back to the beach were the picnic basket was still waiting for them. Fenris spread out the blanket on the soft sand while Albran dug up a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘How did you find this place?’ he asked while he accepted the offered glass.

She smiled thinly. ‘I didn’t. Rascal did.’

He had once remarked that “Rascal” was not a very adequate name for a dog that could rip out one’s jugular in an instance. Although he inwardly had to admit it indeed was an original, well at least sarcastic description for a war hound. Nevertheless he had added it was quite inappropriate to bestow a name upon a marbari that insinuated he was an endearing, though sometimes naughty creature, like some kind of lovable harmless puppy. She had replied, rather stiffly, she had been only ten years old when the said dog had imprinted himself on her and that at that age children don’t intend to be original. By now, after he had been introduced to and acquainted with the dog, the animal was drooling and pouncing all over him, wagging its tale and barking out its happiness every time he entered the mansion. In short, they liked each other very much.

He chuckled. ‘Let me guess. He was chasing a rabbit?’

‘A hare, to be precise. We – that is, Bethany and I – were taking a stroll, just to get out of the city for a while.’ Her glance took that distant expression it did whenever she spoke of the past and especially of her deceased sister. He was well aware of how hard it was for her; he had been present, at that horrible moment she had been forced to end Bethany’s life in the Deep Roads. He knew how much she had loved her sister and how much it had taken her to get over her death. She might have come to terms with it by now, she definitely never would forget that awful occurrence. Neither would he.

Tentatively he touched her hand. She looked up and smiled at him, entwining her fingers with his.

‘We both hated Kirkwall, back in those days. We were country girls, used to vast spaces, wild forests and freedom. Not to dirty hovels, narrow slums and being cooped up in a city full of thieves, cutthroats and Templars.’ She sighed. ‘I would do anything to bring her back. To make her –‘

She interrupted herself, shaking her head. ‘Not now. Not on this day.’

Fenris, on the other hand, took her into his arms. ‘Yes, love, today of all days. I know how much it hurts you she can’t be present at our wedding. You don’t have to hide that.’

She smiled at him through the tears she wasn’t able to hold back. ‘I wished _you_ could remember someone you missed on this special day. I don’t know what bothers me more, I missing my sister or you not being able to miss anyone at all.’

He buried his face into her hair. ‘Does it help if I say I miss your sister because she resembled as much of family as can imagine? And don’t think I say that to make you feel better. She was the only mage I’ve ever trusted and I was truly fond of her. And, by the way, that last part also counts for your mother.’

Albran let out a throaty laugh. ‘They would both have been so happy to see us like this. Married and all.’ She sighed and pressed her frame even closer to his. ‘Anyway, to explain this discovery, Bethany and I followed Rascal and found this place. We were both in awe and pledged to each other never to tell anyone about it.’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘And now you’ve broken your promise.’

She laughed again. ‘I’m sure she will forgive me.’

Gently she broke away from him, got up and walked to the lake with her glass in her hand. She solemnly poured some of the wine into the water as a kind of libation. ‘To you, my sweet sister.’ She emptied the glass. ‘And to you, Carver and you, my parents. I hope that you witness our bliss from the Void. Or better even, from the Maker’s side.’

Fenris also got up and wrapped her in his arms again. ‘I know you’re not a religious person. Neither am I. But as much as you do, I hope they are smiling down upon you. Upon us.’

She turned in his arms and he captured her lips. She let her glass fall in the sand and embraced him. Her hands wandered over his naked skin. She basked in his warmth and the tenderness with which his fingers slowly trailed down her body. Softly he nuzzled her neck and murmured how much he loved her. His arousing deep voice, even more husky due to his emotions, entering her ear and his breath swirling around it both gave her goose bumps. He lowered her on the blanket.

‘I want to feast on you,’ he declared hoarsely and so he did. She cried out in ecstasy when he filled her again. 

They both wished this perfect day would never end.

-

Halfway the afternoon Aveline was banging ferociously on the door of Hawke’s estate. When Bodahn opened, only moments later, she pushed the dwarf aside and strode determinedly into the hallway like a warship flying full colours. ‘Where is she?’ she snarled. Without waiting for an answer she roared, ‘Hawke! I know you’re in here somewhere! Show yourself immediately so I can kick your sorry arse!!’

‘Er, Captain,’ Bodahn stuttered, nervously wriggling his fingers, ‘Messere Hawke is not in.’ He wasn’t exactly prepared for a furious woman on the doorstep. And the Guard Captain was not just any woman at that, especially when she was angry.

Aveline turned to him with vicious speed. ‘What do you mean, she is not in?’

The manservant staggered a few steps back under her flaming gaze. He held her in high esteem, no mistake there, and usually she was a stern but friendly woman. An enraged Guard Captain, however, was not to be trifled with; she should be handled with care before she would handle you with downright wrath. He swallowed hard. ‘She left this morning in the company of Messere Fenris but I don’t know where they went.’

Aveline glared daggers at him. ‘Did she at least say when she will be back?’

Bodahn stumbled some more steps out of her glowering way. ‘No, Captain Ser, she did not.’

She looked as if she was going to combust and pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘I’m positive you know more about it. Spit it out!’

‘Cinnamon buns!’ Suddenly the cheerful voice of Sandal sounded, counterpointed by a happy “woof” from Rascal.

Aveline seemed to deflate somewhat. She looked at the young dwarf who radiated nothing but happiness and she let out a frustrated grunt. But she stopped shouting. ‘The moment she comes back, tell her to go to the Keep and see me, understood? And that’s an order.’ Without any more words she tramped out of the door which she slammed shut behind her.

Bodahn exhaled with quivering relief. ‘That was mighty clever of you, my boy. She couldn’t keep on raging under your charm, could she.’

‘Enchantment!’ Sandal beamed.

‘Just so,’ Bodahn smiled, affectionately ruffling his son’s hair.

 

Aveline stomped irritated through the winding streets of Lowtown to the Hanged Man. She was willing to accept that Bodahn really didn’t have a clue where Hawke was, but not that Varric was ignorant about where she hung out. That bloody dwarf always knew everything. She kicked the entrance open but stopped dead on the threshold; the last thing she had expected to see was the scene now unfolding before her eyes.

The regular customers of the tavern, the ones that seemed to be glued to the stools around the bar and probably even spent the nights on them, that is when they were not busying themselves with mugging and robbery, were at this moment gathered around the biggest table in the tap room. Doing _what_?? Aveline’s eyes popped from their sockets. It seemed they were making paper flowers.

She blinked. No, it was not a delusion; the rough, grumpy and outright dangerous squirts were definitely manufacturing flowers out of bright paper. And making garlands. Or at least they were trying to in silent suffering, looking more than embarrassed. Merrill was fluttering around them, shining with delight and twittering encouragements like an overjoyed nightingale. Now and again she guided a clumsy scarred hand to show how to properly cut the paper to get the right result. Aveline was astonished the sharp scissors hadn’t been used as weapons yet.

Her eyes wandered to Isabela who stood leaning against the counter with a broad grin on her face. She shot the woman a look that almost cried out loud, "What the hell is going on here?!"

The pirate queen raised her glass of whisky in a salute. ‘Top of the day to you, Captain Man Hands! Who would have thought our sweet little Merrill would turn out to be such an amazing nursery teacher!’ She giggled. ‘I can’t wait for the moment she’s going to teach them to sing the wedding hymn. Part-singing.’

Aveline squinted suspiciously at her. She was more than half convinced the pirate had forced the whole ragtag bunch into doing this and had threatened to nail their balls to the chairs if they weren’t cooperative. Judging the frightened looks the thugs now and again threw at Isabela, she wasn’t far beyond the truth with that assumption.

Merrill caught sight of Aveline. Enthusiastically she clapped her hands. ‘Oh Aveline, look! Isn’t it wonderful! The Vhenadahl Tree will be so beautiful!’

‘Yes, wonderful,’ one of the men grumbled under his breath. Aveline remembered she had dragged him the other night at his ear through the tavern when he had intimidated someone with a broken bottle for no other offence than being looked at in the wrong way. And now his sausage-like fingers were struggling with too delicate scissors and unwilling crumpling paper, his face tense with concentration.

‘Why don’t you let the elves do this?’ she asked, totally befuddled. ‘I’m sure they are so much better in making decorations.’

‘But they are far too occupied with cleaning the Alienage. It takes a lot of effort to sweep the floor and scrub the shacks; they have no time to make decorations. And then I thought, there are always people in the Hanged Man, even during the day. They never seem to do anything special, they must have lots of time.’ Her face clouded over a little. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? Isabela thought it was a great idea.’

 _I bet she did_ , Aveline thought. She didn’t dare to glance at the eccentric, tanned woman out of fear she would burst out laughing. ‘No Merrill, you didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, keep up the good work. And the same counts for you, chaps. Go on with the cutting and gluing. Nice work, gentlemen. Very nice. Don’t let me hold you.’ _Damn, the second one who almost deprives me of my sour mood._ She took the stairs two steps at the time and rushed into Varric’s room. The dwarf was scribbling as he had been doing for weeks now, frowning and sweating.

‘Alright, where is Hawke,’ Aveline snapped without further ado.

Varric raised an eyebrow at her. ‘I haven’t got the faintest idea. If I were to guess, however, I’d say her bedroom would be a good bet. Together with her elf, two for the price of one. How about that.’

‘Cut the crap, Varric,’ Aveline growled, ‘I’ve had to cope with enough shit today to last a lifetime.’

The dwarf cocked his head. ‘Why don’t you take a seat and have a drink. By the look of it you’ve had a hard day.’

The Guard Captain slumped down in one of the chairs. ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. ‘I’ve been summoned by the Knight Commander. Of course the bitch one way or another has got wind of the whole Anders affair and she was livid. She went on ranting for ages about the duty of all citizens to turn in apostates, about the incompetence of the Guard and how she was personally affronted by not being informed. She went as far as screaming she would remove me from my office.’

‘Ouch,’ Varric said sympathetically, ‘that must have hurt.’

Gratefully Aveline took a large sip of the brandy Varric had poured her. ‘Ouch indeed and it’s not even the worst part. Without a second thought she labelled Anders a blood mage and then she threatened to arrest Hawke – can you believe that!’

Varric flared up. ‘What? Has she completely gone out of her stupid mind?! A woman gets raped in her own home by some bloody bastard and instead of showing some compassion, that deranged twat wants to lock her up in – where? Your dungeons? The blighted Gallows??’

Aveline rubbed her face. ‘Varric,’ she said in a tired tone, ‘she accused Hawke of harbouring a blood mage and, brace yourself, of being one herself simply because she refused to hand Anders over to the Templars.’

Varric’s mouth fell open. ‘I think it’s safe to state she’s several sandwiches short of a picnic,’ he said, shocked.

‘A complete fruitcake,’ Aveline agreed, ‘but that doesn’t solve the sudden problem.’

The dwarf gulped down his ale and jumped up. ‘Now I’m utterly sorry I don’t know where Hawke is but we must find her as fast as possible.’

Aveline lifted her hand. ‘Wait, Varric, not so hasty. Just sit and thank the Maker for Cullen. I don’t know how the Knight Captain puts up with that seething pain in the ass but some way or another he managed to calm her down. She dropped the charges. That doesn’t mean Hawke hasn’t got to be warned, though; the bitch can always change her mind. We can only hope and pray Fenris doesn’t march off to the Gallows immediately to give her Crankiness a what for.’

‘One can always hope and pray he does exactly that,’ the dwarf rumbled grimly while he sat down again.

She gave him a mirthless smile. ‘In any case, I will have all the time in the world to prepare for the wedding day. It won’t surprise you to hear Meredith has taken the matter of chasing Anders into her own hands.’

Varric looked uneasy. ‘I can’t say I applaud that. We haven’t had any result up until now, let alone the Templars will succeed. Those nitwits couldn’t probably find Anders even if he was tapping them on their nose and yell keekaboo into their ears. So he will remain a threat to Hawke.’

‘As far as I know, Fenris is with her right now, so unless Anders wants to commit suicide in quite an original way, he won’t harass her at this moment. Besides, Hawke doesn’t think he will return.’

‘She didn’t think he would violate her in the first place. Neither did we. But still that happened.’

‘Yes, yes, I agree. I didn’t say I wouldn’t go behind that harpy’s back to – wait, _we_?’

Varric tried to look as neutral as possible. ‘While your guardsmen were running around Lowtown and the sewers, we did some searching ourselves up the Wounded Coast. You know, some hopping in and out caves, some nosing about suspicious, er, outcrops and groves and coves and what have you in that blasted area. Nothing special.’

‘Without telling me,’ the Guard Captain said with a face like a thundercloud.

‘Well, you were already wading up to your knees in mud and shit and what not. Don’t worry, we didn’t find anything.’

Aveline leant back and let out a deep breath. ’Do me a favour, dwarf, and fill that glass up. Let’s first try to figure out where that wretched woman and her elf can be.’ She shook her head. ‘Just as well she wasn’t at home. I was so wound up, I wanted to take it out on her, instead of just give her a warning to watch out for Meredith. Maker! The way I stood yelling at Bodahn! The poor dwarf. I owe him an apology.’

‘That’s why you always should have a good drink before you go shouting at everybody,’ Varric smirked.

-

Orsino pretended to read a treatise on the use of spindleweed in addition to lyrium to replenish mana. In reality he was listening intensely to the ruckus coming from the room of the Knight Commander on the other side of the corridor. It wasn’t difficult to follow word for word the screeching tirade of Meredith, and he couldn’t help feeling immensely pleased by how she got more agitated by the minute. Apparently the Guard Captain didn’t give in an inch. Good for her. A pity she didn’t speak up enough for him to hear what she was saying. On the other hand he was concerned. A furious Meredith was a dangerous one. Even more dangerous than usual. He had to stay vigilant and find a way to tell Anders he had been right and now the Templars were hunting him.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

Reluctantly they broke up their wonderful day together. The sun was setting and the evening was starting to descent upon Kirkwall and the Wounded Coast. They gathered the picnic items and headed back to the city.

‘Are we supposed to hide our rings from our friends?’ Fenris asked playfully while they were treading the sandy path. ‘To take them off when we get home and stuff them in a cupboard or your dressing table, away from prying eyes? Or can we keep on wearing them?’ She noticed he was turning the plain band with the thumb of the same hand while the other one was firmly holding hers.

Hawke grinned impishly. ‘We’re not going to hide anything. Let them try to work it out for themselves. And we will give them plenty opportunities. By the way, if you don’t object, I’m planning to throw a party just for the lovable bastards the day before you have to wear that atrocious pair of shoes Varric made you buy.’

He groaned and she chortled. ‘To be honest, I can’t wait to see you in the outfit our dwarf has picked out for you.’

Defiantly he straightened his shoulders. ‘And who says the dwarf has picked out my outfit?’

She laughed out loud at this time. ‘I know for certain _you_ didn’t. You have no sense for style at all. No, that’s not true,’ she corrected herself immediately, ‘in fact, you ooze style. Perhaps it’s better to say you’re not interested in fashion and related subjects whatsoever. Whatever the case, I only saw you dressed in your spiky armour, some loose baggy clothing and your markings. I prefer that last outfit, by the way.’

‘Do you now.’

Too late she saw the literally and figuratively elfish glint in his eyes.

They had entered the city through the gates of Hightown but that didn’t withhold him to stop and embrace her. ‘Tell me how much you prefer that,’ he grumbled in his mind numbing rough velvet and dark sugar coated irresistible voice that held more than a touch of promise of hot, wild sex. And she knew how hot, wild, and tender, sex with him could be. She went wet between her legs in an instant and almost dropped the now empty basket. He enthralled her.

‘If you don’t want Aveline to arrest us on the spot for totally improper behaviour in public, I’d rather tell you that in the private vicinity of our bedroom,’ she managed hoarsely, ‘and show you how much I appreciate that way of dressing the moment after.’ She felt him smirk against her cheek so she thought to return the favour by softly biting his earlobe. As she had expected he almost jumped.

‘You minx,’ he breathed throatily, grasping her tightly. She just grinned. And grinned even wider when she detected over his shoulder the sour, icy looks of Lady What the Hell was her Name Again. The noble woman turned to her companion who was perusing the goods of the merchant who sold silk ribbons and too high priced clasps with lots of precious stones that weren’t exactly gems. Hawke recognized the woman as the somewhat ( _somewhat?!)_ childish and unworldly Comtesse de Launcet. The one who thought that swooning was a kind of fancy fashion accessory. The Countess followed her “friend’s” direction (in Albran’s opinion nobles didn’t have friends, just accomplices) and her mouth instantly formed a shocked perfect O.

At that very moment the image of Aveline arresting them on charge of improper behaviour in public suddenly became very appealing.

‘Take me,’ Albran urged Fenris while she pressed her body against his, ‘take me now!’

‘What?’ He tried to recoil, utterly stunned. He almost lost the blanket he was carrying. A little game was fun but this was going too far. He turned his head, following her gaze, and immediately comprehended. _Oh hell no!_ He caught her hand when she reached for his crotch. ‘Have you gone completely crazy?!’ He took her wrist in a steel grip and dragged her in the direction of her estate, alright, _their_ estate, looking straight ahead while she exploded with laughter.

‘Mesdames,’ she greeted the two absolutely shaken noblewomen when she passed them at high speed. They shrank back as if she was a viper, ready to strike. They weren’t far beyond the truth.

Fenris hauled her through the front door and pushed her against the wall after he had kicked the door shut. ‘What the hell were you thinking?!’ He was genuinely angry. ‘What had got into you! Your relationship, our relationship with the nobility is as strained as it is and you are all too happy to throw oil on the flames! Do you really want to make more enemies?!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she giggled, ‘I just couldn’t help myself. They looked so self-righteous in their stiff dresses with their stiff upper lips, I thought I’d give them the show they expected anyhow from an upstart with an elven bodyguard as a husband-to-be.’

He tried to hold on to his fury but couldn’t help himself. He lowered his forehead against hers and unfastened his grip on her wrist. He dropped the blanket. He desperately and with no avail tried to stifle a chuckle. ‘What am I supposed to do with you, you insufferable, intolerable, maddening, unbearable,’ he started to nibble the skin of her face at this point, ‘outrageous, despicable,’ he pushed himself close to her now, ‘disastrous, totally insane,’ he cupped her face and traced his fingers down her cheeks; his breath quickened and his voice dropped a few notches, ‘godsdammed beautiful, magnificent, breathtaking, mind stunning, astonishing _woman_.’ He drew her forcefully in his arms and kissed her passionately.

Neither of them paid attention to the basket that fell from her hand, not an inch from his bare foot; a suspicious clinking and shattering sound reminded of the empty wine bottles and the glassware, now definitely smashed to shards.

When they broke the kiss, both slightly panting, Albran answered his chuckle with one of her own. ‘I’m relieved you finally found out I’m of the female persuasion.’ She just avoided a fierce bite in her neck. ‘And when you’re done with chanting the dictionary,’ she had to duck this time to shun his vicious move to catch her in earnest, ‘I will wait for you upstairs, looking forward to your further praise. And to admire your aforesaid outfit. But I thought that went without saying.’

He grabbed her waist and with a guttural grumble he claimed her mouth again. His hands nearly shredded her tunic in their urge to reach her breasts and the low of her back and, frankly, the rest of her body all in the same time. She groaned hungrily and made a serious attempt to undress him.

They got interrupted by an artificial cough and spun as if being attacked.

‘Forgive me, Messeres.’ Bodahn nervously wrung his hands. ‘But you have a visitor.’

Hawke hastily adjusted her dishevelled cloths. She heard Fenris huff in frustration and hid a smirk. ’And here I was, thinking we for once could enjoy a whole day of peace and quiet, including the evening,’ she murmured annoyed.

Someone appeared in the entrance of the library, the usual place her major-domo let wait the people wanting to talk to her. ‘I deeply apologize for disturbing you, Serah Hawke, Fenris, especially, as I understand, since this is supposed to be, er, your day out. But I’m afraid I am here with good reasons.’

Albran turned to the visitor and frowned in astonishment. ‘Knight Captain Cullen? What are you doing here?’

Fenris shifted immediately and positioned himself in front of her in a protective stance. Albran wasn’t a mage but a Templar at your doorstep, let alone in your house, was never good news. She tenderly touched his arm. ‘I can hardly believe the Knight Captain is here to arrest me, love. Let’s hear him out before we decide to harass him.’ At the same time she moved around him, still holding his arm.

Cullen gave her a little formal bow which couldn’t completely hide his nervousness. Albran realised that she, despite her friendly words, was staring ferociously at him and imagined Fenris’s scowl was even more menacing. She subsided somewhat. No need to frighten the man. Yet. ‘All right, lets retreat into the library, and you can tell us what’s so bloody important that you have to disturb the precious _little_ time we can share together.’

‘Uhm, Messere, it was not my intent ... the gentleman insisted.’

She shot the dwarf a bright beam. ‘Don’t worry, Bodahn, no harm done. I hope,’ she added, suddenly afraid Bodahn had let slip his tongue. The dwarf just vehemently shook his head, guessing her thoughts. She smiled thinly. ‘Good. Please, could you bring us some refreshments?’

‘Of course, Messere.’ Bodahn scurried off.

When they walked into the library, Fenris seized her hand. He gave her a short look she could interpret well. He was troubled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered.

‘After all that has happened I have all the right to worry,’ he waylaid her, speaking out loud. He led her to the sofa as a perfect chevalier and she let him.

The moment she sat down, Cullen said, ‘Your soon to be husband has every reason to be concerned, I fear. Meredith knows all about what has occurred.’

‘What do you mean?’ Fenris sounded alarmed by now.

Cullen took a deep breath. ‘I hoped to catch you before you heard this from the Guard Captain, so I could explain the situation myself.’ _Without indignant yelling and shouting foolish allegations,_ he thought.

Albran interrupted him immediately. ‘The Guard Captain? What’s that about Aveline?’

He looked warily at her. ‘Later, Champion. First things first.’ He took another breath, working up his courage. ‘The Knight Commander wanted to arrest you on accusation of protecting a dangerous apostate.’ He got no chance to say anything further.

Before Albran could react Fenris burst out. He could hardly restrain himself from jumping the Knight Captain. ‘ _Protect_ him?!’ he fumed. He stood in front of the Templar, his fists clenched. ‘He violated her, she was in no state to do anything! A Chantry brother decided to bring him into the custody of the Guard Captain! How dare that power-mad deranged idiot of a woman get it into her mind to arrest the _victim_ of such a disgusting crime!’

Cullen was visibly shocked by the sudden bright blue flare. He knew the reputation of the elf and had no desire to experience his skill out of first hand. Not when his own well-being was at stake.

Hawke had sprung up. She could not believe what Cullen just had said. She had heard rumours about Meredith, that she was getting more crazy by the day, but she hadn’t paid much attention to them. Now it became painfully clear she should have. ‘I didn’t want him to be convicted for being a mage, but for the crime he has committed,’ she declared resentfully. ‘And that’s the Guard Captain’s territory, not the Knights Commander’s.’

‘Exactly,’ she heard Fenris spat, aggravated, ‘how much I despise him for being an abomination, what he has done to Albran is unforgivable and far more sickening.’

‘I know,’ Cullen sighed, ‘and I understand. I can even sympathise. But I’m afraid Meredith is of a completely different opinion. In the end, however, she decided not to take legal actions against the Champion.’

‘She’d better,’ Fenris growled.

Bodahn chose this moment to enter the library, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and three glasses. He carefully tried not to take notice of the tense atmosphere in the room but put his burden on the first available low side-table.

‘Thank you Bodahn, that will be all for now,’ Hawke said with an attempt at a cheerful smile that sadly resembled a forced grimace at best. ‘Perhaps we should all calm down,’ she continued after the dwarf had disappeared again. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’

Fenris grumbled something under his breath, but grudgingly stepped back to sit on the couch.

‘Does Meredith even know you’re here?’ Hawke asked Cullen while she busied herself with filling the glasses.

‘As a matter of fact she does. She sent me here herself to warn you, although I’m sure she had a completely different type of warning in mind.’ He shifted uneasily. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Champion, I’m loyal to her. Just as I am, you are undoubtedly aware of the rumours being spread about her, er, sanity and it seems likely her wanting to arrest you will only fuel those rumours. However, as I see it, she is very dedicated to her job which has become more strenuous over the past years. She was overreacting, but she has been under too much stress of late.’

Fenris snorted derisively but didn’t comment.

‘But that I’m loyal to her doesn’t mean I agree with everything she does and I definitely don’t agree with this. So I implore you, Champion, be very cautious about your actions.’

‘What? About how I ever so gracefully associate with the nobility?’ Albran scoffed. ‘Or are you afraid I suddenly will get the luminous idea to make my house a safe haven for apostate mages?’

Cullen threw her a tired look. ‘You don’t understand, Serah Hawke.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Yes, she has dropped the charges for now, but she can change her mind any time when her mood takes her. She is hard to read and even harder to predict these days. She can decide to take you captive, lock you up and interrogate you on a whim. And you can’t rely on your title, it won’t protect you.’

‘Listen to yourself,’ Fenris sneered, ‘rewind those words in your head, take some time to think them over and then question the gossipers once more.’

‘She’s just overworked,’ the Knight Captain persevered, stubbornly.

‘I don’t care how you call it,’ the elf snarled. ‘If she dares to lay a finger on Albran, to touch just one hair on her head, she will have me to deal with. And believe me, it will not be pleasant. For her, that is.’

‘And now she has taken yet another task upon her shoulders,’ Cullen said, ignoring the elf’s threat as best he could, although deep in his heart he had to admit it would be a very interesting clash, to say the least. ‘She has forbidden the Guard Captain to go on with pursuing Anders and has set the Templars upon it.’

Fenris stared at him and Albran reacted, outwardly unperturbed, ‘See, that’s why I didn’t want her to know about the whole affair. She’s making a mess of it already. No wonder you wanted to get to us before Aveline did. I wager you were frightened the three of us would start a riot.’

 _Petrified_ , Cullen thought but didn’t say. He put his glass down and stood up. ‘Please, Serah Hawke, don’t do anything rash. Don’t go after Anders yourself, with or without the, now illegal, assist of the City Guard. Don’t thwart the Knight Commander or the Templars in their investigation and try to keep a low profile.’ She cocked an eyebrow at him and he realised that was a silly remark. ‘As far as possible with your marriage arrangements,’ he added. ‘I understand you already have half of Hightown in an uproar.’ Hawke also stood but he waved her off. ‘Don’t bother, Champion, ‘I will see myself out.’

After he had left, Fenris said, ‘I never thought I would have to protect you from the Knight Commander herself.’ Anders’s words were nagging at the back of his mind, _Holding this city together? She is howling at the bloody moon!_ He vigorously tried to shut them out. Too many thoughts were disturbing his mind right now, too many scenes of horror tried to make an appearance. Admitting that the abomination had been right, could prove to be too much and he didn’t want to snap. He had to keep his wits about him. Especially now.

‘And I never thought I would live to see the day you would turn against the Templars,’ she replied, jokingly.

He grabbed her hand. ‘I will turn against anybody who wants to harm you,’ he said sincerely. ‘Be it a mage, a Templar or the Maker Himself.’

She chuckled softly while she snuggled close to him and laid her head on his shoulder. ‘You will be so busy turning, you will get dizzy.’

He lifted her chin and traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. ‘Don’t make light of this, Albran.’

She smiled wanly. ‘I don’t. I’m just trying to keep my nerves and anger under control.’

He pulled her in his arms. ‘I think I know just the right remedy to keep them at bay,’ he murmured in such a sultry tone it quadrupled the usual effect of his voice on her body and she happily surrendered to him.

-

Sebastian noticed the young man was in the Chantry again. He had turned up for several days in a row by now, every evening at the same time. As he had done previously, he burned a candle before one of Andraste’s statues and after that sat in one of the pews, praying for a while. The boy’s handsome face seemed to be made for looking joyful; instead he radiated a deep sadness like he had been through some tragic event or was mourning a great loss. Sebastian had to confess he not only felt compassionate, but also became more and more intrigued. This night he decided to approach and address the young man. Perhaps there was a way he could help him to ease his grief.

Little did he know it was a decision he would go regretting enormously.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

‘You are not supposed to be here,’ Isabela said determinedly. ‘As a matter of fact, you are not even allowed. This is women’s business. As much as I like your appearance, I by now order you out.’ Her dark, kohl-surrounded eyes shone with authority. ‘Hawke! What were you thinking, bringing him here!’

Fenris folded his arms in front of his chest and returned the gaze with a firm glare of his own. ‘She didn’t bring me, I was adamant to accompany her. After Anders’s escape and Meredith’s stupid but dangerous accusations, I’m not going to lose sight of Albran, not just for one moment,’ he said, defiantly sticking out his chin.

They were standing just over the threshold of the bridal shop where Albran had ordered her wedding dress. Fenris noticed the place was even more luxurious and adorned with useless and ridiculous decorations than the shops he had been forced to visit. The interior looked like a wedding-cake created by a deranged confectioner who had completely gone nuts with glazing and topping. And it smelled more fragrant than a florist’s and a perfumery combined, which almost made his eyes water.

Today Albran had an appointment to try on the adjusted garment and she had decided it was a good moment to finally choose the outfits for Isabela and Merrill, who would be the bridesmaids. She hoped fervently they would succeed this time. The elven mage wouldn’t be a problem; she was more than compliant and admired every piece of cloth she got wrapped in. The pirate queen, however, had on earlier occasions kept on complaining there was not enough leg or bosom or skin at all to put on display.

‘And you know how the saying goes, sweetness, one wedding leads to another.’

Albran had looked incredulously at her. ‘As if you, of all people, would ever want to get married again!’

Isabela had shrugged her tanned shoulders. ‘It was just a manner of speaking. But I was expecting it would at least lead to a nice tryst and these dresses you’re forcing upon me aren’t helping.’

Hawke had had an eruption of sarcastic glee. ‘Are you serious? You only have to bat your lashes and the men stumble over each other to do your bidding. Besides that, you’re capable enough to drag them to your bed on your own account. You don’t need your cleavage or exposed thighs.’ She had added, ‘Just know I will not allow you to be dressed as if you come directly rolling out of the Blooming Rose.’

‘If that were the case, I wouldn’t be dressed at all,’ Isabela had cheekily replied.

‘Ehm, Fenris,’ Merrill at this very moment timidly put in a word, ‘it is bad luck to see the bride in her wedding gown before the actual wedding.’

_Well, too late for that,_ he thought, grinning inwardly. He turned to Albran as a last resort. ‘Don’t tell me you believe in this superstitious nonsense?’

Hawke smiled sweetly. ‘It’s part of the tradition, love.’

‘What?! Not days ago you objected ferociously against tradition and now –‘

‘Out,’ Isabela commanded with a light but resolute push against his chest. ‘If you are decided on keeping watch, you can do it outside this establishment.’

‘Please Fenris,’ Hawke pleaded, ‘I’m sure no big bad bully will pounce upon me while I’m trying on my dress. And I want it to be a surprise.’

Fenris grunted disapprovingly but gave in. He stepped outside.

‘If you like, we can let you bring a glass of champagne and some sweetmeats,’ Isabela called after him.

‘Don’t bother,’ he grumbled. Sulkily he leant against the wall. He knew he was acting like an overprotecting marbari but he would be damned if something nasty would befall – his wife. His dark scowl softened at that realization and he briefly touched the ring on his finger. Up until now nobody had noticed the similar plain bands they both wore and although he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, on the other hand he loved to share the secret with only her. He wandered over to the parapet and without much interest looked down at the bustling Hightown market below.

He frowned when he saw Sebastian descending the stairs leading from the estate part of Hightown down to the colourful stalls. Not that is was unusual for the Chantry brother to take a stroll, especially on a crisp sunny autumn day like this, but he wasn’t alone. Even that shouldn’t ring the alarm bells if it weren’t for the fact he didn’t know his companion and he found their behaviour rather curious. The unknown person looked innocent enough; a youth, on the face of it still in his teens, with half long curly blond hair. But for one reason or another Fenris didn’t like the almost obsessive way Sebastian was talking to him and how the boy in adoration reacted to his words. It seemed ... spurious. His frown grew deeper. Why would he be bothered by whomever Sebastian wanted to walk with through Kirkwall? He shook his head; he was really getting paranoid.

And yet he couldn’t shake off the sudden cold that crept along his spine.

-

Hawke declared she was in desperate need of a strong drink at the Hanged Man, when she finally had finished her business in the bridal shop and they ambled home for dinner.

‘Why? What’s the stress? I thought you females loved trying on dresses and lace veils and hats and shoes and what not,’ Fenris said, carefully. At least, that was what Varric had told him but it could well be the dwarf had made it up or had been highly exaggerating. It wouldn’t be the first time he would do such a thing. As a matter of fact, he did it constantly.

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong,’ Hawke sighed, ‘we do. But what we definitely _don’t_ love is a friend whining and grouching about the clothes we want her to wear on _our_ wedding day and yammering about the amount of time it takes to make a gown fit.’

‘Well, it did take hours –‘

But Albran wasn’t listening. ‘Would you believe she tried to seduce one of the seamstresses? She practically pushed those breasts of hers in her face. The poor woman didn’t know where to look.’

Fenris could totally believe it. He nearly laughed out loud but managed to keep a straight face for her benefit. Or perhaps for his own, in case she got mad at his reaction.

And so, later that night, they went to the scrupulously scrubbed clean Hanged Man.

‘I haven’t seen Sebastian for a couple of days,’ Hawke addressed Varric after she had taken a seat at the table in the dwarf’s suite. ‘Lover’s quarrel?’

Fenris hadn’t mentioned he had spotted Sebastian and his new friend, or whatever he was, in the Hightown market that afternoon. But then again, what was there to tell? Nothing, besides a vague feeling something was amiss he couldn’t even put into words. She would have laughed at him and she probably would have been right.

The dwarf cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Beg your pardon?’

Hawke gave him a mischievous smile. ‘You two seemed to be inseparable of late,’ she said teasingly. ‘And out of the sudden our prince, or should I say _your_ prince, doesn’t turn up anymore. What’s a concerned and romantic girl to think? But you can tell me everything about it, you know that, right? For you I always have a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.’

Varric looked aghast. He put a hand to his heart, exclaiming, ‘Madam! You wound me with such accusations of unfaithfulness. You know very well Bianca is the only one for me.’

‘Indeed,’ Fenris groused, ‘those two culprits have not been acting so much as lovers than as brothers in evil, concocting plans how to turn my life into a living hell.’

Isabela came sauntering into the room, a glass of rum already in her hand, just in time to catch Fenris’s words. She was followed by Merrill. ‘I would have paid to see your face,’ the pirate giggled. ‘I wager you took brooding to a whole new level.’ She plopped down in a vacant chair and rested her booted feet on a corner of the table.

‘I bet you would,’ Varric agreed. ‘It came with the whole package of smouldering and cold insolence you once asked for. There was a moment I was afraid he would combust or assault one of the salesmen.’

‘Smouldering and cold at the same time,’ Merrill piped up, ‘isn’t that ... very difficult?’

‘Let me put it this way, Daisy, it was quite a sight to behold.’

‘You were just trying how far you could push me,’ Fenris retorted grumpily.

‘What can I say, it was a very instructive afternoon. And just in time too, since nowadays you seem to be glued to Hawke. With her around we won’t get another chance to harass you.’

‘I’m just trying to prevent something bad will happen,’ Fenris grumbled.

At that moment Sebastian entered with, to Fenris’s dismay, the same boy in tow he had been with earlier that day. ‘A good evening to you all,’ he cheerfully called out to the gathering. ‘I’d like you to meet Herric. He is from Cumberland.’

Herric, a.k.a. Marius, had invented a colourful tale about how his family had perished in a fire when their farm burned down, which had been the reason he had come to Kirkwall in search for the only uncle he had left, only to find out said uncle had died not a week before his arrival. After Sebastian had ended the introduction with, ‘So I think you can understand that I wanted to bring Herric to the Hanged to Man to have a pleasant evening in good company,’ Marius gave the audience his most charming and captivating smile, carefully framed with a soft expression of sadness.

‘I have a lot to thank Brother Sebastian for,’ he said quietly. ‘He has been a great support and solace in my dire circumstances.’

‘Herric is considering joining the Chantry,’ the former prince beamed happily.

‘That would be a pity,’ Isabela commented, eyeing the handsome boy with hardly disguised interest.

Fenris soon found out he was the only one who was not moved by the boy’s so called misery, the only one yet to question the credibility of the story. The others were all over this Herric, making him as comfortable as possible, making him feel at home. Even Albran treated him with near motherly kindness. Now he was in the same room with the young man, sitting close to him, his uneasiness grew worse; he felt his markings tingle and struggled not to ignite them. Silently he scolded himself. The boy did absolutely nothing to feed his suspicions; nothing indicated he had something up his sleeve or was hatching up some devious plan. On the contrary, he seemed too good to be true. But that was precisely the point, wasn’t it: _too_ good to be true. He could, however, hardly accuse the boy of being nice and friendly. And bluntly venting his doubts about the misfortune he claimed to have suffered, would be most unwise. He would keep an eye on the young man, a strong watchful eye, if Sebastian insisted on dragging him along.

-

‘You were very silent tonight, love. Is something wrong?’ Albran asked worried, while she and Fenris were returning home. He had been keeping strangely aloof in the presence of Herric, even for him.

The elf threw her a sidelong glance, considering whether it would be prudent to pour his heart out, or if he’d better feign being tired. He feared she wouldn’t be fooled. ‘Don’t tell me you bought that sob story,’ he blurted.

‘What sob story? Oh, you mean Herric.’ She tilted her head. ‘You don’t trust him?’

Fenris took a breath and the dam broke. ‘No I don’t trust him at all. There is something unsavoury about him, something slippery I can’t put my finger upon. I just know he isn’t what he pretends to be.’

‘Why would you think such a thing?’ she asked in amazement.

‘I can’t tell,’ Fenris replied, getting impatient out of frustration. ‘Call it a hunch.’

She stopped abruptly and turned to him. ‘So, because of a hunch you blame a person of lying and cheating? What’s got into you?!’

He gripped her shoulders. ‘Listen to me Albran,’ he said urgently. ‘Yes, it sounds crazy and I can’t proof a thing, but I am positive this Herric is trouble.’

She stared angrily at him. ‘This is idiotic. I know you are on your guard and yes, with good reasons, but now you’re overdoing it. You can’t just go and accuse every stranger you meet of being a criminal or having bad intentions. You have always been the suspicious kind and again with good reasons,’ she hastily added, raising her voice before he could utter a protest. ‘But this is getting too far. That poor boy!’

He wanted to shake her until she saw the truth of it, but refrained; he would accomplish only the opposite.

Albran got away from his grasp. ‘I’m not having an argument in the middle of the street,’ she hissed and started walking with an irritated brisk gait. For a moment he just stood, looking at her fast disappearing form. He considered going to his mansion but he would never forgive himself if something would happen to her in his absence, so he hastened after her instead. He felt wretched. They had had their differences in the past; he had disliked it by then and now he absolutely hated to have a row with her.

In the middle of the parlour she halted and stood still in front of the hearth, staring into the fire. She tried to calm down and wondered why she had flared up like that in the first place. She hadn’t noticed anything strange about the young man, that was true, but she knew Fenris’s intuition and she had to admit he was seldom incorrect. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him watching her warily. He looked desolate and suddenly she felt ashamed. Fenris, of all persons, didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

‘I am sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘I didn’t sense anything fishy about Herric but that doesn’t give me the right to fly at you. If it makes you feel better, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I promise I will be cautious around him and maybe we can try to verify his story.’ She reached out her hand to him and he took it in his.

‘Thank you. That means a lot to me,’ he said with a sigh of relief. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘For a moment I was afraid we would be having a serious fight.’

‘Our first fight as a married couple,’ she smiled crookedly. ‘A memorable event.’

He drew her close and kissed her. He felt her strained body soften against his and nuzzled her neck, taking in her lovely scent. ‘I know something far more pleasurable than fighting,’ he whispered on her skin, ‘and I’ve been told make up sex is the best there is.’

‘Then let’s go upstairs and find out,’ she answered hoarsely.

-

The whole way back to his hired room, Marius was cursing under his breath. He had not expected Danarius’s pet would be a pushover, but neither that he would be such a nasty piece of work. The bloody elf had been the only one who hadn’t taken the bait; a few times he had even been afraid he would blow his cover. Even his mind magic hadn’t worked on him and that gave him the greatest concern. He feared it had something to do with those lyrium markings. He had known about those, of course, and his education had involved how to neutralize the effect. As a matter of fact, it had been one of the exam problems he had had to handle. And had passed with flying colours. But never before he had confronted lyrium as strong as this.

He could think of some methods to handle that, but he had to catch the elf off-handed and that could turn out to be a mighty problem. He stumbled into his room and lay down on his small cot, his arms folded behind his head. The assignment the Senate had given him was his first and most important task but delivering Danarius’s slave back would provide him with a large reward, and he had made it his personal matter of prestige. Perhaps there was a way to combine the two missions...

Suddenly he sat up and a little cruel smile played around his lips. It was a risky and bold plan but if he played it well, it would work out splendidly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And who knows what more evil will come from Tevinter...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watning: sex. If you don't like it, skip it. I'll try to mark the passage, but I know form experience that's not a guarantee. Sorry beforehand. 
> 
> Nevertheless, try to enjoy!

Chapter 10

-

In the dead of night Anders was strutting alongside Marius down the Wounded Coast to Kirkwall. He was feeling ill at ease, which had nothing to do with the heavy darkness surrounding them, but everything with their destination. ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? Couldn’t we have better planned this meeting in one of the caves?’

Marius grimaced. ‘Take it from me, your clinic is at this moment the safest spot in the whole of Kirkwall and its far surroundings for you. For every mage, in fact. The Guard, as well as the Templars, have already searched the place thoroughly, they won’t return. You should brace yourself though, they have completely wrecked the premises. I’ve tried to clean up as best I could but there was not much I could do and even less to salvage.’

An hour later Anders stood in what once had been his sanctuary. Despite Marius’s warning he was shocked. He was the first to admit it never had been the nicest place in the city to start with, but now it was but a ruin. Everything was smashed to pieces; even the walls bore big holes and cracks as if they were crushed with mallets. For the briefest of moments his eyes fluttered to one particular part. It seemed to be unharmed. He bit the inside of his cheek. _Extraordinary_ , he thought. _Who would have thought... that specific part... unscathed and left alone..._ With a sigh he returned his attention to the harsh present. No need to mention this to his apprentice. He never noticed the very apprentice following his gaze and storing it away for, how knows, future use.

‘Why would they do such a thing?’ Anders asked with a choked voice.

‘An act out of spite and frustration,’ a voice sounded at the entrance. Both Anders and Marius spun around to see a Templar standing in the doorway. He had reddish hair and wore a neatly trimmed beard. Anders noted his eyes swivelled around as if scouting the place and he realised this Templar was far more intelligent – and thus dangerous – than the usual behemoth “hit them were it hurts” types.

‘The Templars were livid when they found the place deserted and couldn’t discover anything of import. They worked off their anger on destroying the place,’ the man continued with a little humourless smile.

‘And you must be Thrask,’ Anders said, sizing the man up. He vaguely remembered he had seen him once or twice in the Gallows. ‘The Templar who wants to help the mages.’ Now he put it into words it even sounded more dubious.

Thrask stepped forward and offered Anders his hand which the mage, after some hesitation, shook. Thrask’s grip was firm. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he said forthright, ‘it is not my intent to set all mages free; I want them to work together with the Templars. And I absolutely don’t condone blood magic.’

‘Neither do I,’ Anders replied. ‘And could you please clarify what you mean with “work together”?’

‘It is my goal to put an end to the oppression. I don’t want to abolish the Circle, that would be too dangerous, but I strive for cooperation and a certain amount of equality.’

‘ _That is not_ _sufficient_ ,’ Justice rumbled. ‘ _It is total freedom we strive for._ ’

‘Shut up,’ Anders fractiously shot silently back. ‘You have caused damage enough already. All this mess is due to you and your stupid actions.’ He knew that was not entirely true and far from fair, but lately he had grown very tired of the spirit. Thankfully Justice kept quiet after his scolding. Out loud Anders said, ‘And how do you think to accomplish that?’

The Templar smiled thinly. ‘We can’t accomplish anything while Meredith is still in charge. Her tyrannical reign will only lead to rebellion and destruction. So, our first goal should be bringing her down.’

Anders looked at him with a mixture of praise and suspicion. Orsino had mentioned that daring plan earlier, but he wasn’t sure it was wise to reveal the first Enchanter’s ideas or even divulge he had conferred with him. He didn’t know how much Thrask was informed about Orsino’s moves. Somewhat sarcastically he said, ‘Any idea how? I’m sorry. I would like to offer you a seat but it seems your fellow Templars have all shattered them.’

Thrask waved a hand. ‘Please, don’t compare me to the likes of them. You know I’m here to discuss with you how to put an end to this kind of disgusting actions.’

‘Meredith is unassailable,’ Anders objected. ‘We can’t touch her.’

‘It will be difficult but not impossible,’ Thrask waylaid the argument. ‘There are, for example, her weekly visits to the Chantry. On those occasions she is, of course, always surrounded by her most trusted bodyguards, but we have one valuable weapon, or even two.’ He paused for a heartbeat, taking in Anders’s sceptical expression. ‘The first one is determination and second, though most important, one is the element of surprise. But only if we plan it extremely carefully.’

Anders started to pace the room. ‘You mean to abduct or even kill the Knight Commander in broad daylight, in the middle of Hightown,’ he said flatly.

‘In this season it won’t be broad daylight. And Hightown is a much more convenient place for an assault than the Gallows are.’

‘How many Templars can you rely on?’

‘I can count on nine trustworthy men.’

‘Just nine?!’

‘Keep in mind I have to move very vigilantly. If just one word of what I’m doing leaks out, not only _my_ life will be forfeit but also that of the men and women who stand behind me. Not to forget the whole operation will be ruined. But besides those nine Templars, I can call upon at least twelve Circle mages.’

Anders tapped his finger on his chin. ‘The Mage Underground Movement consist of about fifteen mages at this moment,’ he said pensively.

‘I told you I don’t put up with blood magic and, pardon me for saying so, but your Movement is notorious for dabbling in it.’

Anders turned around and glared irritably at the Templar. ‘Yes, I’m aware of that. I don’t approve but it is your Knight Commander who more or less pushes them in that direction.’

Thrask heaved his hand in a pacifying gesture. ‘I’m aware of that. And you can make use of their assistance in our fight, as long as you can guarantee me that they will stick to the conventional magic.’

Marius leant against a part of the wall that had remained undamaged and listened quietly to the discussion that had arisen. He smiled inwardly. They could scheme as much as they wanted to, in the end it was his plan that would be carried out. And that plan was taking more form by the minute.

-

Fenris carried Albran through the door of their bedroom and laid her delicately on the bed. He straddled her and lightly put his hands upon her shoulders. He bent down and murmured, ‘Have you any idea how much I love you?’

She looked at him through half opened eyes. ‘If I say no, what will you do?’

He gave her his most breathtaking smile. ‘That would be the vital question, wouldn’t it,’ he whispered. ‘How to convince you.’

She backed down a shiver when his husky voice that sounded like rough velvet entered her ear. His fingers tenderly trailed down the contour of her face, softly brushing away some loose strands of hair. Her breath hitched when his lips touched hers. Fiery bolts of pleasure rippled along her nerves and her hands gripped his upper arms.

‘Fenris!’ It was but a gasp, a wisp of air.

She felt him smile and he rubbed his nose against hers. He turned her on her stomach and removed her tunic and breast band. His hands caressed her and he started to ever so gently massage her. His mouth followed and she felt his warm breath swirl on her skin when he sensually whispered, ‘Would this be enough, I wonder, or would you demand more evidence.’ She could only whimper something incoherently. He loosened knots in her muscles she didn’t even know existed. It felt heavenly. Slowly he worked his way down her spine and all the time his soft kisses accompanied the deftly movements of his skilled fingers. When he arrived at the end of her back she was but a pool of quivering surrender, completely at his mercy.

He freed her of her trousers and underclothes. ‘Should I give more proof of my love for you? Or are you already satisfied?’ He almost ignited her with just his reverberating low timbre, that made her every sinew pulsate with want and expectation.

‘Please,’ she managed with difficulty.

He cupped her buttocks and squeezed softly. ‘You have the most admirable behind I have ever seen,’ he declared and emphasized his words with yet another kiss. He let his body glide over hers until he covered her. Somewhere he had undressed himself without her noticing, and now she felt his warm naked skin upon hers, his hard yet supple muscles touching every inch of her back. He nibbled her earlobe. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he breathed. ‘And I want you so badly.’

At this, the last fragment of her sanity melted.

‘What’s holding you back?’ she croaked. She was putty in his hands, especially when his voice floated around her. She wanted to drift on the deep tone of that voice, she wanted to dissolve under his fingers.

She sensed the presence of his erect shaft between her thighs and bucked. He touched her entrance and she let out a loud moan. He chortled quietly and turned her again. At this time she had become totally defenceless and couldn’t care less about it. She was all but willing to submit to whatever he desired. His lips closed around a nipple and he let his tongue twirl around the rose peak while his hand wandered south and touched her sensitive nub, playing deceitfully lazily with it, sending hot arrows of delight through her body. She groaned helplessly. His mouth travelled upwards; he adored every piece of skin he came across until he reached her lips. The moment he started to kiss her and let his tongue stroke hers, his hardened length entered her core. He easily slid through her wetness until he filled her completely. He framed her face and looked into her shining eyes and at the same time he slowly began to move.

‘Do you believe me now?’

‘I have always believed you,’ she cried.

‘Will you believe me when I tell you I will never leave you?’

‘Yes.’

‘That I will never hurt you?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was but a feeble sigh at this moment.

He tenderly licked the tears of her face and leant his cheek on hers. ‘You mean everything to me. Don’t ever forget that.’

Shortly after that her whole world seemed to exist out of pure ecstasy when he dragged her with him into a mighty climax that whirled her into a hurricane of electrifying feelings and emotions.

It took them both a long time before they were able to breathe normal again, let alone speak.

‘Oh Maker, Albran,’ Fenris finally panted, still boneless lying on top of her and struggling for air.

‘You know, for some reason or another I always thought that make up sex would be a lot ... more rough,’ she chuckled hoarsely. ‘Not some kind of overwhelming love declaration.’

He heaved his head and touched her face. ‘Disappointed?’

Albran laughed throatily, sniffing her last tears away. ‘I think you missed the word “overwhelming” in my sentence, my wondrous husband.’

‘Not disappointed. Good.’ He turned to his side and took her with her in his arms. ‘What about we stay in bed until the wedding day and let everyone else do the stressing bits.’

‘I totally agree,’ she mumbled, utterly fulfilled.

But, of course, at that very moment Bodahn knocked at the door. ‘Messeres? You have a visitor.’

‘Oh bloody hell, not again,’ Albran groused irritably. ‘Why can’t they just leave us at peace?’

-

And yet another Templar was waiting to deliver a message, albeit this time Meredith hadn’t sent her Captain but one of her lieutenants. The woman looked flushed and embarrassed, though Albran didn’t know whether it was because of the noises that had come out of the bedroom she undoubtedly must have heard, or that she felt uneasy she had to order her to come with her to Gallows, as she so eloquently stated, making Hawke raise her brow.

Even though, at that moment, the lieutenant was still convinced of herself and drenched with righteousness, a little splinter of uncertainty started to pierce her poise. Possibly her timing could have been better.

‘The Knight Commander wishes to see you right away, Champion,’ she said stiffly.

‘I have no desire at all to see _her_ ,’ Albran answered curtly, eyeing the Templar with such cold insolence Fenris could have taken lessons. ‘Especially not _right away_.’

The woman shifted uneasily. ‘In that case I have to arrest you, I’m sorry to say, so you better come with me on your own account,’ she stated. It was clear that awkwardness started creeping in and was drilling big holes into her self-confidence. And it was about to get worse.

Fenris made an intimidating step forwards, all his markings ablaze. He wanted to make a not to misunderstand point. The Templar shrank back. ‘The Champion has to come alone.’ she squeaked. ‘Without company, that is.’

The elf grinned very unpleasantly. ‘It is always nice to find out your reputation does you credit,’ he snarled. ‘And I’m afraid everything you heard about me is true. Hereby I tell you Albran is not going to confront that bitch of yours on her own.’

‘Those are my orders,’ the woman wheezed pathetically and she almost fled the estate when Fenris took another step in her direction.

‘My love,’ Albran intervened with a badly concealed smirk, ‘why don’t we behave like obedient citizens and follow the nice lady to do the Knight Commander’s bidding without protest?’ She addressed the frightened Templar with a saccharine voice, ‘And yes, Fenris is coming with me. After all, it is a well known fact he is my bodyguard, at least the noble aristocrats around here are convinced of that fact, and he would be a lousy one if he would leave me at your or your superior’s clemency, wouldn’t he.’

The poor woman burbled something incomprehensible but had no choice than to comply. All the way to the Gallows she tried to stay as far away from Fenris as possible. The elf had a hard time not to burst into laughter.

-

‘You did _what_??’ Varric stared incredulously at Fenris.

The elf nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. ‘I knocked her flat out. She threatened to imprison Albran, I didn’t agree. What of it?’

‘You knocked her out and got away with it?! You should be halfway to Antiva by now! And you, you!’ The dwarf turned heatedly to Albran and pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘You never even thought to invite me to your intimate tête-à-tête with the Knight Commander? How am I supposed to keep my readers satisfied if I can’t record at firsthand what happens with and takes place around their beloved Champion? And why are you still walking around free while we’re at it?! And I mean the both of you!’

Hawke flashed him her most enthralling smile. ‘I fear I owe Cullen more than one, after this incident. The poor man must have the worst time of his life by now. I truly admire him about how he handles and succeeds to mollify that deranged virago. It indeed is a pity you weren’t present with you sharp quill. But with or without you, Meredith will be the laugh of Kirkwall tomorrow. I at least hope she will back down for a while. Trying to take me into custody, imagine that.’

She sat down and only when she took the glass of brandy Varric proffered, he noticed her hands were trembling, even though she tried to hide it. A sudden coldness hit him. He got the nasty feeling something ugly was waiting around the corner.

-

Thrask let out a big sigh. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but rumour had it the Champion’s fiancé had punched Meredith unconscious in a fit of flaring fury. He grinned inwardly. _It is what she deserved_ , he thought, _a shame, really, he didn’t finish her off while he had the opportunity. Would have saved me and this city a lot of trouble._ A welcome side-effect was that whatever whoever could have noticed about his sneaking out of the Gallows, and meeting Anders in the Undercity, would keep their mouth shut. Nobody in their sane mind would risk Meredith’s wrath at this time, not even with a story about a Templar bonding with a mage. He was extremely glad he didn’t have to walk in the Knight Captain’s shoes this very moment. Probably the worst place to be for quite a time.

The mages had all been sent to their cells but he knew there would be plenty of time and lots of occasion this evening to call a meeting. No other Templar, let alone the Knight Captain, would pay attention. And the Commander would just be busy to lick her wounds and shout at Cullen. Yes, this night they would hatch plans to get rid of Meredith for good.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

-

Anders spent the rest of the night in a cave not far from the city. He stayed in a different place every night as though he was some kind of criminal fugitive what, in fact, was very accurate, he thought mordantly.

Marius had returned to his hired room; now and again he had to show his face, if only to prevent the landlady from renting the room out to somebody else. He needed the place if he wanted to keep a finger on Kirkwall’s pulse, since he didn’t want to rely just on second hand information. Besides that, it was vital he kept in touch with Sebastian Veal. It had worried him at first that Danarius’s pet slave wasn’t susceptible to his mind magic and, worse, didn’t trust him at all. But, he told himself, actually it was a blessing he had found out in time. If he had tried to take him captive without this knowledge, things could have gone very awry. And in the end it didn’t matter, as long as the Chantry brother kept taking him to that waterhole where Albran Hawke and her entourage liked to gather. In that way he had the opportunity to observe the elf and figure out the best method to overpower him. Fenris didn’t have to trust him, he only had to be present.

This night in particular he was glad he had stayed in the city. The following morning rumours, attended by giggles and snickers, flew through the streets and markets, especially those of Lowtown. It was said the Knight Commander had wanted to arrest the Champion but that the Champion’s fiancé had bashed her down. Meredith had demanded (or rather, so the stories went, hysterically screeched for) blood and the Knight Captain had but just been able to prevent a major scene. With an anxious expression, though inwardly he had almost choked with hilarity, Marius had rushed over to the Chantry to find out more from his new “friend”. Sebastian couldn’t tell him much more but Marius’s brain, working smoothly, had already found a way to turn this event into his advantage. For both his assignments. People seemed willing to trip over each other to give him an easy job.

After he had promised Sebastian to come to the Chantry again that afternoon, he went to Anders to inform him about what had occurred. The mage would find out sooner or later and he undoubtedly would get suspicious if he’d hold back this exciting news.

Anders listened to Marius’s report with mixed feelings. He unwillingly had to admit it was the first time he actually admired one of the elf’s actions, although he feared for what it could bring about.

‘You seem to be very pleased with it,’ he reflected wistfully. ‘But I’m afraid the mages will suffer under Meredith’s fury and frustration.’

‘It will serve our goal,’ Marius retorted, radiating concrete self-confidence. ‘If she oppresses the mages just a little more, or makes one more rash and irrational decision, the situation will get out of hand. The tide will turn and the balance will fall our way. Already the whole city is buzzing with anticipation, and more people sympathize with the mages’ plight every day. And now the Knight Commander has got it into her head to pester the Champion, the rumours about her being completely crazy have become even stronger. A lot of people see Fenris as a hero for his deed.’

And that stung. Not only because he, Anders, was the one responsible for all this mess but also because the elf, the same person he had always despised, had become Hawke’s ferocious defender. Not over a month ago he would have called him a wild rabid dog but right now he wished he was him. With clenched jaws he ignored Justice’s reprimand booming in his head.

-

‘You’re not making a good case for yourselves.’

Aveline was visibly annoyed. She had hurried to the Amell estate first thing in the morning when she had found out what Fenris had done. That is to say, it was her first action after she had scolded the Guardsmen who had been on duty last night and had failed to wake her up the moment they heard about the incident. Although this time she didn’t seem on the brink of exploding, Bodahn had hastily ushered her into the large but cosy kitchen where Hawke and Fenris were enjoying their breakfast. Orana was bustling around and all kinds of mouth-watering smells were wafting through the air, but Aveline paid it no attention, though her taste-buds unconsciously did. For the time being she ignored their hungry call.

‘What would you have had me done?’ Fenris grumbled sullenly. ‘Let Albran being dragged to a Gallows’ prison cell?’

‘Of course not! But why take such drastic measures? You should have let Cullen handle it.’

‘Apparently he didn’t handle the matter that well to start with,’ Fenris scoffed, ‘otherwise he had prevented that Albran got more or less arrested in the middle of the night. On the same outrageous charge of harbouring a blood mage and being one herself, I might add. Meredith hadn’t changed her mind, she just tried the straight approach. The woman is completely mental, she should be locked up herself. Perhaps your precious Knight Captain’s influence is not as big as you imagine.’ The thought of what Meredith had wanted to do to Albran made his blood boil all over again.

‘His influence is evidently big enough to calm the Knight Commander down yet another time, and to stop wanting her to take you and Hawke prisoner for an attempt on her life!’ Aveline barked.

Hawke burst out laughing. It sounded hollow and also a bit shakily. ‘Fenris doesn’t do _attempts_ on lives. If he had wanted her dead, she would have woken up on the other side of the Veil, wondering what in the Maker’s name had happened. At the most you can say it was an attempt on her pride.’ She became serious again. ‘Please Aveline, sit down and have breakfast with us. I understand and appreciate your concern, but I’m certain Meredith will think twice before she harasses me again. Cullen may state I cannot rely on my title as Champion, but I highly doubt that.’

‘The nobility hardly hold you in high esteem, Hawke,’ Aveline sighed while she took a seat. ‘I don’t think they will protect you, or even back you up.’

‘Even that is not completely true. I know there are nobles who would support me against Meredith, if only because they loath her more than they do me. But what about the common people? I think Varric can organize one hell of a revolt, if he puts his back into it.’

‘Is that what you want? Blood and death and total chaos?’

Hawke bowed her head. ‘No. But neither can I believe Meredith would plunge the city she claims to protect, into a civil war.’ She looked up again. There was a defiant look in her eyes but Aveline, just as Varric the other night, noticed a glimmer of disquiet she vainly tried to conceal. Fenris, who saw it too, covered her hand with his.

‘Up until now her behaviour has been no evidence for such hope,’ the Guard Captain objected. ‘It would be wise if you’d lie low for a while.’

Fenris gave Albran’s hand a soft squeeze. ‘We already wanted to spend the days till the wedding in bed,’ he said with a little smile. ‘This seems to be the perfect reason to do just that.’

‘I don’t think it would be a bad idea,’ Aveline grinned. She drummed on the table with her fingertips. ‘Perhaps I should post some Guardsmen outside the estate,’ she said pensively but Albran determinedly shook her head.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I think Meredith will only interpret it as a provocation and it will ignite her even more. Besides that, it can get you into a lot of trouble. The state the bitch is in right now, she would definitively throw you out of the barracks and replace you with one of her puppets.’

‘You probably are right,’ Aveline murmured. She rubbed the back of her neck. She felt a headache coming up. ‘It just doesn’t sit well with me she can attack you on a whim.’ She gratefully accepted the cup of freshly made coffee Orana handed her and took a small sip.

‘What happened to Cullen’s calming influence?’ Fenris slyly asked, with an undertone of badly masked malice.

The Guard Captain glared icy daggers at him. ‘I’m still convinced he is the only one she will listen to, but you can hardly blame him for not being a miracle worker.’ She skewered a piece of scrambled eggs Orana had provided her with and started to chew aggressively. Not a moment later her eyes flew open. ‘Maker!’ she managed in surprised delight. ‘This is _good_! I had almost forgotten what a tremendous cook Orana is. You’re not contemplating to hire catering, I hope?’ She gave the elven young woman a bright beam and Orana answered with a proud smile.

Hawke raised her brow. ‘I can hardly expect Orana taking care of a complete wedding banquet for a few hundred people on her own, besides the fact she will be one of the guests. Moreover, I’m convinced Meredith will accuse her on the spot of using magic when she tastes her cookery, and we can’t have that,’ she added sarcastically. ‘But don’t worry; you’ll have all the opportunity to admire her art at the end of the week, when we throw our own private party.’

‘You still intend to invite Madam Pain-in-the-Ass?’

‘That’s a euphemism if I ever heard one, for a completely out of control, power mad, dangerous lunatic,’ Fenris grumbled. ‘ _I_ don’t intend to invite her but I’m afraid Albran is of another opinion, even after what happened.’

Hawke tapped him lightly on his arm. ‘We already did invite her, remember, and I don’t think it will help the situation if we’d let her know she isn’t welcome anymore. But perhaps we’ll be lucky and she won’t show up.’

After the Guard Captain had taken her leave, her mood significantly improved by the wonderful breakfast, Hawke and Fenris looked at each other. ‘It seems we suddenly have all the time of the world,’ the latter said. ‘So, where will we start?’

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes Fenris didn’t understand at that moment, Albran said, ‘We _could_ start with giving Orana a hand and help with the preparations of the canapés and pies for –‘

In an instance Orana’s face changed into an utterly alarmed expression. ‘Oh no,’ the small elf cried out, ‘you’re not going to ruin my kitchen. Not again. I won’t allow it. Get out! Out!’ She waved threateningly with a frying pan.

Hawke grabbed Fenris’s wrist and in a fit of giggles she fled the kitchen. ‘I once made an awful mess of the place,’ she explained to the astonished elf. ‘And since that day she won’t even let me touch a pot or look at the stove.’

‘I must say,’ Fenris mumbled, still taken aback by Orana’s behaviour, ‘she doesn’t remind me at all of the squeaking girl we once saved. She isn’t frightened anymore, sooner frighte _ning_.’ After some contemplation he said, ‘I assume that is a good thing.’

It was strange to have a completely empty day to fill, after all the excitement that had taken place, be it wedding preparations or Meredith’s hysterics, and in the end they decided to have a long relaxing bath.

-

When they descended to the lower floor again, quite a long time later and rather rosy and – content, Bodahn announced someone had dropped off a message. Albran picked up the letter from the desk and broke the plain seal. She skimmed the text. ‘It’s an anonymous message,’ she said with a frown. ‘No name, no signature, not even initials. It says they require a meeting with us.’

Fenris’s hackles rose immediately. ‘I don’t trust this.’

‘Bodahn!’ Hawke called after the major domo who was about to enter the kitchen, but by the hearing of her voice turned on his paces. ‘By whom was this letter delivered?’

The dwarf thought for a moment. ‘By some young boy, Messere. I didn’t recognise him. But then again, I usually don’t pay much attention to messenger boys. I’m sorry, should I have?’

‘No, that’s quite alright.’ Hawke tapped pensively with the piece of paper against her chin. ‘He wasn’t elven?’

‘Definitely not, Messere. Looked to me like the kind of the drab Lowtown boys who hang around in Hightown, trying to earn a few silvers by doing small chores for the nobility or the Merchant’s Guild, if they get the chance. That is, if they’re not busy pickpocketing,’ he added, somewhat sourly.

‘Thank you Bodahn.’ She turned back to Fenris. ‘So, probably not a servant, just a nameless boy who can’t be traced down. The one who sent this letter must be thoroughly careful. I wonder what this is all about.’

Fenris felt his stomach knot together. He started to pace the parlour. ‘Does it say where this meeting is supposed to take place?’

‘Some obscure address in Lowtown,’ Albran replied. ‘Tonight, at ten of the clock.’ She sat down in the desk chair, feeling uneasy herself.

‘Lowtown! This sounds more like a conspiracy. The only thing Lowtown is good for. It could be a trap,’ he hissed. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time. Remember Sister Petrice?’

‘Yes love, I do. And believe it or not, the thought has crossed my mind.’

He didn’t pay attention to the mild jab. ‘It could be another means Meredith has come up with to lure you in,’ he said agitated.

But Albran shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. She absolutely misses the subtlety for such a devious ploy. This is not her style.’ She smiled wryly. ‘She is more likely to sent a regiment of Templars this time, to smash the place to bits and haul me off kicking and screaming to the Gallows as an example for all the trouble makers in this city. Like Varric would put it: it has more pathos. You cannot deny her that. Having a sense for pathos, I mean. Just how she kept on -’

Fenris spun on his heels. ‘Will you stop rambling, woman, this is serious!’

‘Well, excuse me!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t like it anymore than you do! I’m just, I’m ... I am nervous.’ She sagged. She bit her lip and took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘It could be Anders,’ she said in a small voice, ‘I know you think it is.’

Fenris walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He felt guilty about his outburst. It was the last thing she needed right now. Of course she was nervous; he had seen it in her eyes. Not to mention he felt the same. ‘Forgive me. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.’

She laid her hand on his and shot him a quivering smile. ‘We’re both on edge, I suppose. Please, let’s try not to work off our anxiety on each other.’

Fenris dragged his fingers through his hair, making a complete mess of the soft moonlike bangs. She automatically reached out to wipe the locks out of his eyes. He had to smile at that. Such a simple and tender gesture. So like her. He traced a finger down her face. ‘You are right about Meredith. And at the risk of making you angry, it’s not Anders who is on my mind, but that slippery protégé of Sebastian. That Herric.’

She cocked her head. ‘Do you distrust him that much?’ She searched her memory for something that the innocent looking boy had said or done to raise so much suspicion in Fenris that he believed him willing to do her harm. Again she couldn’t find any evidence, but again she reminded herself her husband had a perfect working intuition.

‘Yes,’ he simply said.

She nodded. ‘Alright, although I still cannot see why.’ She heaved a hand to smother his upcoming protest. ‘I told you before, I believe your concerns about this Herric. But the only way to find out who sent the message and with what purpose, is to go to that Lowtown address tonight at ten o’clock.’

Fenris lowered his hands on the back of the chair, stooping over her. Looking into her eyes, he said softly but with emphasis, ‘I’m not sure this is a good idea.’

Albran grinned roguishly. ‘It absolutely isn’t. But my curiosity is kindled.’

Fenris let out a tormented sigh and grimaced. ‘Of course it is. It always is.’ He cupped her face and kissed her with such tenderness it made her shiver. He smiled on her lips. ‘And I am here to prevent your curiosity will kill you.’

-

Fenris rapped on the rickety and peeled off door of a hovel in Lowtown. It wasn’t far from Hawke’s former home, where her uncle still lived. It had taken all his power of persuasion to convince Albran he would be the one at the front. It had been no small feat. Even right now he simply could feel her pout behind his back. In his other hand he held a supple longsword, ready to strike in one swinging deadly heartbeat, if need be. He sensed Albran’s presence at his back, pouting and all, but, more importantly, with her daggers drawn. She was on her highest alert, just as he was. After a few moments the door went ajar and Fenris saw a pair of eyes glinting in the sparse light the few torches in the ally cast.

‘Come in, quickly,’ a voice, probably belonging to the eyes, whispered.

With Albran on his heels Fenris slipped into the room, even more watchful than before. He took a fighting stance, ready for action, but exhaled relieved when he found a man standing opposite of him, mirroring his posture, a same kind of sword in his hands, and with the same kind of attentive look in his eyes. If possible the unknown man looked even more strained than he did. At the same time they slowly lowered their weapons.

‘It’s good to see you are prepared for the worst,’ another voice sounded, a woman’s voice. ‘Good evening, Serah Fenris, Serah Hawke, I’m pleased to see you have accepted my invitation. My name is Marlein Selbrech and the gentleman here is Ser Theodore of Wildervale.’

It struck him she let his name precede.

As if she could read his thoughts she chortled softly. ‘Yes, Serah Fenris. Your bride may be the Champion, but you are the one who had the nerve to stand up against the Knight Commander in a very – striking way.’

He sheathed his sword. Albran stepped forward. ‘Lady Selbrech,’ she said with a little nod, ‘I must say this is quite a surprise. Would you please clarify ..?’

‘Certainly, Champion. We, that is Ser Theodore, myself and quite a number of nobles, are trying to find a way to depose Meredith and put a real Viscount on the throne of Kirkwall once more, before she ruins the city completely. We were hoping you two would help us in that endeavour.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that that whole Nobles-Rebellion thing petered out like a pathetic little flame in a hurricane. So I decided to make something more out of it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 12

 

Hawke and Fenris stepped outside the shabby hovel into the cool night. They were on their guard, in case some idiots would have a try at mugging them, but Lowtown seemed innocently calm this evening. At least this neighbourhood was.

‘You were right after all, ‘Albran smirked brightly, feeling giddy. ‘It _was_ about a conspiracy.’

‘Not the type of conspiracy I feared it would be,’ Fenris replied with a crooked smile. ‘I have to confess, I am quite surprised. This was not the disaster I thought it would turn into.’ He didn’t look at her but instead his attention was fixed on their environment. His sword was still sheathed but his hand never hovered far from the hilt. ‘Who would have thought you’d have this much support among the nobility.’

Because she was as attentive as he was, she more felt than saw his smile. Her hands mimicked his and she was as ready as he was to draw her daggers. Lowtown might seem in peace, you never knew what would await you around the next corner. The moment after, their caution seemed to bear fruit. There rang a faint noise, nothing more than a swish of clothes and a soft click but it was enough to alarm them. They automatically drew their weapons and turned back to back in one fluent motion.

A person stepped into the dim light, a rather short person. A fierce crossbow was raised but not exactly aimed at them. As a matter of fact the weapon almost seemed to mock them, waving around in short circles as if it was laughing.

Relieved Albran puffed out her cheeks. ‘Damn it, Varric, I hope you understand you almost got yourself killed. What possessed you to sneak upon us and risk your life?!’

The dwarf beamed broadly. ‘Do you really think Bianca would let me die just like that?’ He lowered his beloved crossbow. ‘Your lives were as much at stake as mine, although I’m pleased to see you’re watchful.’ He hinted with his head at the hovel they had just left. ‘Care to tell what has been discussed in there?’

Hawke put away her daggers. ‘You intercepted the messenger boy, didn’t you,’ she stated flatly. The bloody dwarf was persistent as a rash when it came to gathering information.

‘I didn’t need to. He’s on my payroll; he came to warn me.’ He met her stern gaze and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘What? How else am I expected to find out what you’re up to when you keep refusing to enlighten me about your undertakings?’

‘I could have told you the dwarf wouldn’t be pleased you left him out of an interesting meeting once more,’ Fenris said with a slight grin, sheathing his sword. ‘But then again, I doubt if you would have listened.’

‘Don’t try to get on my good side, elf. You could have informed me. I’m thoroughly disappointed.’ But somehow Varric wasn’t able to conceal the twinkle in his eyes. ‘On the other hand, the Hanged Man is close by. What about a draught of good Antivan brandy while you two update me.’

‘I wouldn’t say no to a nice strong drink,’ Hawke agreed. ‘But I must warn you in advance, you can’t write down any of what you’re about to hear and turn it into one of your infamous stories.’

‘No need to worry about that,’ Varric mumbled sourly under his breath, ‘a writer’s block is a horrible thing. And apparently very persistent.’

‘And before you’re going to shout out in frustration, it simply is too delicate a matter. Not a word can leak out; there are too many lives involved.’

‘Right,’ the dwarf said resolutely, ‘Hanged Man. Antivan brandy. Now.’

And so they marched to the Hanged Man and made a beeline for Varric’s room. The dwarf closed the door behind their backs and produced a bottle and three glasses. ‘You can start to spill the beans, Hawke. I’m all ears and all the other ears are shut out.’

‘I’m astonished you don’t know already,’ Hawke said with a little smile while she sat down and accepted the glass Varric offered her.

‘The boy didn’t know anything worthwhile. I bloody hell had to follow you to know where you were going. So, what’s up?’

She leant back in her chair. ‘It appears that a part of the nobles, and quite a large part at that, want to overthrow Meredith. They would like Fenris and me to work together with them.’

Varric almost choked on his swig. ‘And you thought your life wasn’t interesting enough already?’ he spluttered. ‘Great Ancestors, what’s next! An attack on the Gallows, you in the Viscount’s seat?’

‘Maker forbid!’ Albran exclaimed in horror. ‘I like my seats where they are: in my own house and as far away as possible from the Keep, thank you very much.’

‘In that case I recommend you move; you’re living rather close to the Keep you know,’ Varric remarked. ‘I, however, never fancied you hobnobbing with the nobility, Hawke,’

‘Hobnobbing?!’ Hawke said indignantly. ‘Since when is plotting the same as hobnobbing?!’ She fervently waved her arm around.

Suddenly Varric squinted alertly and in a split second he grabbed her hand and stared at her fingers with a startled, hurt expression as if the digits had offended him. Hawke’s mouth snapped shut; she knew exactly what he was gazing at. An awkward silence fell and for a while the only sound came from the crackling wood in the hearth and the muted voices from the taproom down below.

‘Ouch?’ Fenris volunteered, eventually.

Varric let out a deep sigh. ‘Why don’t you just stab me in the heart, you two. It would be less painful. First you let yourselves haul off to the Gallows and almost start a riot without me present; second you concoct a revolution with the snobs without inviting me, and now I’m to find out you are already married without letting me know. That’s three times without. After all the things we’ve been through together. Do I mean that little to you?’ He let go of her hand. ‘I am deeply shocked,’ he declared gravely.

‘You are immensely exaggerating, Varric, and shamelessly playing on my feelings of guilt,’ Hawke protested. ‘Please stop whining like a pitiable puppy and making yourself a victim. You know damn well what you mean to me. I’ve chosen you to give me away, for Andraste’s sake!’

‘Well, quite an outdated honour by now, isn’t it,’ Varric snapped.

It got through to Hawke that, for as long as they knew each other, this was the first time the dwarf was genuinely utterly upset. Even after the betrayal of his brother Varric hadn’t looked this hurt. Apparently she had completely misjudged how he would be feeling when he’d find out. She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said meekly, ‘it was never my intent to insult you. And before you point your finger at Fenris, it was totally my own idea. I just wanted the moment to be private, without all the fuss.’

After some consideration Varric gave her a warm, though still brittle smile. ‘I think I can understand. We haven’t been making your lives very easy of late, have we. Especially not Fenris’s life, I’m afraid. But, Andraste’s hot tits, I had a lot of fun!’ He heaved his glass. ‘To your happiness.’

Hawke and Fenris shared a quick glance. The latter got the feeling his wife urgently tried to elucidate it was his turn to say something pacifying. He cleared his throat, frantically searching for the right words. ‘It was not all that bad,’ he made a poor effort at lying, ‘some of the shops were rather, er, nicely decorated and, er, you were a real support in deciding upon the right outfit and ...’ His voice trailed off under the blast of Varric’s gaze and Albran’s desperate groaned, ‘This isn’t helping.’

After shooting an icy glare in Fenris’s direction, Varric said, ‘You can, of course, always try to offend me more.’ He gave them both a devilish grin. ‘But you can remedy it and putting it all right in one swipe, by telling me where you went and what you were doing in that till now unknown place at the moment the Guard Captain-fervently-searching-for-a-nickname was harassing me.’ He burst out laughing at the sight of their mutual embarrassed looks.  ‘No need to say more, this is enough for more than one spicy chapter. And before you start to protest, you owe me that much.’ He reached for the bottle.

‘It was not only about you and the rest of the bunch, it was also –‘ Albran started but Varric didn’t let her finish.

‘Yes, yes, I can understand why you wanted to get married in secret, no need to grovel. And as long as the snooties don’t know about it, I don’t care. Just as long as they are convinced the dwarf did give you away, the dwarf is happy. Now tell me how you think to get rid of the Superbitch.’

-

Marius held the delicate silver chain between his thumb and index finger and let the pendant dangle before his eyes. He felt very content with himself and smiled cunningly. He could not fathom what had driven Hawke to grant Anders such a dangerous gift as a Tevinter Chantry amulet. He would, however, benefit of it. It had been easy to snatch the bauble from Anders’s neck, once he was sound asleep. He had missed it, of course, not long after he woke up. Marius had no doubt it had become a part of him and he only was aware of its permanent soft chafing against the skin of his neck the moment it was absent. Anders had looked feverishly for it, very hard trying not to demonstrate his anxiety. And Marius had played his part by showing he didn’t notice. Shortly after, he had returned to his room in Kirkwall, announcing he had to pay the rent.

Yes, stealing the pendant had been easy. Copying Hawke’s handwriting, however, proved to be another matter. He had been attempting for ages by now, and yet hadn’t succeeded in producing the little note he had in mind in a convincing way. He slipped the pendant back into his pocket and tried again. His face was set in a determined expression; he would get to his goal, even if it had to be letter for delicate letter.

-

‘What? _Again_?’ Albran protested, baffled. ‘And this time you not only want us to get out of the kitchen but the whole house? But as far as I know I never wrecked the parlour or the library or – ‘

‘Bloodstains,’ Orana said pointedly, ‘and mud. And prints of dog paws. No offence meant,’ she turned to Rascal that let out a soft whine. She patted him on the head and addressed Hawke once more. ‘You should take him out. Let him get some fresh air, let him run around the Wounded Coast or something like that. He doesn’t go out enough.’ After a short contemplation she added, ‘He is a war hound! He should chase, er, enemies! Or something. Rabbits maybe. Or hares. Anything.’

‘And let him leave even more prints on the floor?’ Hawke said, rather dazed.

‘She is right, Messere, the dog needs some exercise,’ Bodahn piped up. ’Why not now? The presence is the best time, my old Mum used to say. And don’t return till the evening. I think he needs a really long run. Last day I saw him pouncing the walls. That can’t be good.’

Albran looked incredulously from one to the other. ‘I’m beginning to suspect this is some kind of servant revolt,’ she mumbled.

In the end Fenris dragged her out of the estate, with an excited yapping Rascal at their heels. ‘This is a fight you cannot win,’ he said.

‘They definitely have something upon their sleeves,’ Albran objected grouchily, ‘and I want to know what.’

‘Since I’m quite certain Varric is behind this, we’d better stay out of their way. And seriously, why are you complaining about yet another day without quarrels with Aveline, Isabela and Meredith?’

‘I just want to know what’s going on!’

‘And you will find out soon enough, I’m sure.’

Resolutely he began to direct her to the Hightown city gate. And that’s where things went awfully wrong.

‘Venhedis!’

Fenris attempted to restrain Rascal from jumping a noble woman who was passing by, and failed gloriously. The young lady was delicately nibbling a piece of candy and, although being a war hound, as pointed out not moments before, Rascal was notorious of his sweet tooth. He would rather beg for a lump of sugar than for a juicy sausage.

The lady went down, simply because she was a noblewoman and noblewomen wanted to make a scene about everything and turn everything into a scene. Even worse, she went down with Fenris who, in his haste to avoid a disaster, stumbled over the fleeting dog and fell on top of her. She almost instinctively seized the opportunity to scream as if she was assaulted by an Archdemon. Rascal was, triumphantly and sneakily at the same time, getting off with his prize, wisely running out of the city into liberty. Fenris scrambled onto his feet and got at the same moment brushed aside by Albran, who was smiling broadly at the affronted girl.

She might not be willing to mingle with the nobles, she was actually well familiar with their silly habits. And thus she knew being assisted by the very elf who knocked a ladyship over, for whatever the reason, wouldn’t help the situation. Said ladyship’s poor elven servant, who was accompanying the woman, was desperately trying to get her mistress up again, while at the same time making an effort to adjust her dress and, due to her nerves, doing a bad job. She also got put out of the way by the same determined hand.

‘Fifi de Launcet,’ Hawke said with a straight, though radiant face and a voice dripping with honey. She gave the stunned young woman a hand and hauled her up. Fifi de Lancet instantly stopped her yelling, probably driven by another kind of instinct, one of survival. ‘What a delighted pleasure to meet you. And may I compliment you on your lovely legs? Have you lost weight? You look so much healthier than the last time we met. I take it the new diet has done you a lot of good. Oh dear, perhaps too much weight? I’ve been told you get a tendency to faint in that case.’ She grabbed Fifi de Launcet firmly by the arm before she could follow her mother in the convincement that swooning was a very appealing kind of fashion. She didn’t let her speak, but even if she had left her the opportunity, the snotty girl wouldn’t have been able to utter a single comprehensible word. She just stared at Albran in a kind of abhorrent admiration. ‘Would you be so courteous as to pass my compliments on to your gracious mother? If you will excuse me for now, I believe I have a dog to catch. Of you go now.’

She gave the girl a little push into the right direction and, without looking back, took Fenris by the wrist and marched off. She made it just outside the city before she sank on the ground and almost choked with laughter. ‘When we find that wretched mongrel, remind me to reward him,’ she hiccupped while the tears were streaming down her face.

Fenris just shook his head.

-

It took them hours to find Rascal who had been wise enough to get out of the way as long as he could. And finally they found him swimming in the beautiful, small secluded warm lake he himself, in spite of everything, had found years previous. It was difficult to scold him, he looked like a naughty but innocent puppy; nevertheless Hawke made a feeble effort.

‘I should have known, you insufferable scallywag,’ she groused while she took her dog by the scruff and dragged him home. Rascal managed to look guilty, victorious and smug all at the same time. This time it was Fenris’s turn to almost choke with laughter.

They both, however, fell silent when they, covered in mud and sand, found out what their friends had been planning for them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke isn't too fond of nobility, and she shows it. Little lights will liften the day and Meredith gets what she wants. Or thereabout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As wedding presents go, this is quite a beautiful one.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 13

-

A flustered looking Sebastian was waiting for them in the hall when they came in, muddy and sweaty from the brisk walk home. And smelling of wet dog, in Hawke’s case. And Rascals case, naturally.

‘I am told that you have to wait here until Varric comes to collect you,’ the Chantry brother said, radiating uneasiness. He looked them up and down. ‘Perhaps it is best you go for a wash and change,’ he added hesitantly. ‘You’re in no shape to ...’ He interrupted himself and started to blush, as if he had been about to reveal something that should be kept secret at all costs.

Albran, still firmly holding Rascal, stared coldly back from under her shoulder. To be honest, she gladly wanted to let go of the hound, but her hand was cramped in his scruff and she had the nasty suspicion she was doomed to be stooped over forever because her spine had clicked permanently shut in this position. The dog, on his turn, happily wagged his tail and tried to break free to enthusiastically jump the nervous Chantry brother. ‘You could give me a hand here, you know,’ she snapped at Fenris, who still was very hard struggling not to laugh out loud. She turned to Sebastian. ‘Or you could. I though you Andrasteans were so willing to help a fellow-man, or in this case a fellow-woman, in distress.’

Sebastian managed to look even more uncomfortable.

‘You were almost combusting with anger and annoyance the whole way back,’ Fenris said, desperately stifling a grin. ‘During our hunt for Rascal, your praise for the animal turned quite fast into fury. I simply thought it would be best to let you handle your dog yourself and stay out of it.’ He gave her one of his trademark lopsided smiles and explained, ‘Out of fear you would turn on me.’

She glared at him with a murderous look. ‘I hope it’s getting through to you by now that I’m not still holding the furry villain because I want to. I can’t get up, fuck it. _Do_ something!’

Fenris came to her rescue and freed her hand. He helped her to stand erect and she felt the joints in her spine pop painfully. ‘Stay, you bloody dog!’ she ordered Rascal and the hound sat obediently on his hunches, whining softly. ‘Good,’ Albran growled, ‘finally you do as I tell you. You could have thought of that compliant behaviour before you wrecked my body.’ She changed her attention to Sebastian and narrowed her eyes. ‘And what the hell do you mean with “Varric collecting us”? Has this something to do with being kicked out of my own house?’

But before Sebastian could answer, there rang a knock on the door. It was not a polite knock. The one who wanted to be heard made no secret of their existence. It sounded as if the knock wasn’t answered right away, said door would be crashed down. Hawke, still wound up, marched over to the offended entrance and almost tore the door of its hinges. She came face to face with a very angry Guillaume de Launcet. She groaned inwardly, remembering the embarrassing scene concerning his daughter, her hound and her lover. Husband, she corrected herself.

‘I demand a retribution,’ the Comte fumed. ‘My daughter has been assaulted by your bodyguard. That is not acceptable.’

Albran’s mouth fell open in bewilderment. She realised she should have expected something like this, but nevertheless she was overwhelmed. For the first few seconds she was speechless, then rage took over. Fenris and Sebastian stared in awe how she changed into the seething embodiment of offence. She actually seemed to grow several inches and they were both glad they weren’t standing on the recipient end of her fiery gaze. Even Rascal felt his mistress’s wrath; he scuttled into a corner of the hall and tried to recoil into himself. The Comte had picked a wrong moment.

‘She was _what_?’ said Hawke, so venomously that even the affronted Comte shrank back. On her turn she took a step forward. And with every word she spoke she poked him in the expensive clad chest with a very furious finger.

‘I’m so completely fed up with you snobby nobles! You think soooo wonderful of yourselves and only because you have money and a pedigree! You know what, horses have a pedigree. My _dog_ has a pedigree! And I’m certain _his_ pedigree goes far longer back than that of your pathetic family. So, by your own standards, I can state _your_ daughter violated _my_ dog! _I_ should be the one to bring charges against _you_!’

By now Guillaume de Launcet looked as if he very much regretted his action of sailing with full colours to the Amell estate; Albran’s flaming eyes and bristling demeanour nailed him down. And it seemed she was just starting

‘And accusing my husband-to-be,’ (“to be” was added very hastily, Fenris noticed in an absent way, completely mesmerized by her behaviour), ‘of assaulting the tub of lard you call your daughter, is an offence to the good taste kept in high esteem in every part of Thedas. He only tried to save your disgraceful excuse for offspring from my dog’s playful intervention of eating herself even more to exploding obesity. My dog ripped the candy she was gobbling down out of her hand, Fenris interfered. You should be thankful he did. You should be thankful for _both_ actions.’ This was attended by a particularly vicious poke with her finger.

She paused to take a breath and the Count did an unsuccessful effort to get out of her infuriated way, his eyes wide with sheer terror. But Albran wasn’t done yet, she was on a roll.

 ‘And how dare you call my future husband my bodyguard! He is my lover, you inbred insufferable prig; my lover, my fiancé, and very soon my legally wedded spouse. And yet all you and your narrow-minded, biased, contemptible kind can see is an elf who wants to work his way up over the back of someone with influence. Or do you think I haven’t heard the sickening rumours your wife and the likes of her whisper behind my back because they are too cowardly to say it right into my face?! Let me tell you that bigotry does not suit anyone. Yes, this city was once owned by the Tevinters, notorious and despicable slaveholders. But despite that, we all decided slavery is a foul thing and yet your kind still treats elves like slaves, even if you call them servants nowadays. You’re no better than Tevinter Magisters! You’re even worse because you deny it and hide behind your self-righteousness!’

Guillaume de Launcet made a serious attempt to squeeze a word between her furious rant but she didn’t let him. 

‘Get out of my eyes, you miserable man. Don’t you think I don’t know you have been sent by your frantic wife who thinks the world of herself because she is Orlesian? Go back to her feeble complaints and fits of hysterics and try to beat some sense into her. Figuratively. I don’t put up with violence if not necessary. Although perhaps she would like it. And for the Maker’s sake, try to keep your precious Fifi away from the candy; she’s already as fat as it is, no need to make her more disgusting.’

The Comte stumbled back some more, fervently trying to keep up some appearance, or rather to find some back. And finally he achieved a measly retort. ‘I will address the Knight Commander!’ he screeched. ‘I will see to it you will be reprimanded!’

Hawke let out a hollow, shrill laugh. ‘Yes, my dear friend, just you do that. You can line up. But remember she has been diminished by my _bodyguard’_ (she spoke the word with so much venom that everyone present cringed, even Rascal) ‘not a few nights ago and has become the laugh of the town. It could very well be bad advice trying to get on her good side right now. But of course you can always make an attempt. Now, get out of my way, my doorstep and my life.’ She gave him a last push. He turned and fled into the dusk of the falling night. ‘And give my regards to your so elegantly swooning wife,’ she yelled after him, not being able to help herself. ‘Give her the advice to lie down! Perhaps that will help to shut her up.’

She deflated and at the very moment felt Fenris’s arms around her. ’I hate this,’ she groaned. ‘I hate this kind of performance on my behalf, but I even more hate the kind of prejudice he stands for.’

‘It’s alright, love,’ Fenris breathed in her hair.

Albran pulled herself up. ‘No! As long as this kind of behaviour, of thinking, exists it will _never_ be alright. You are not a slave. You are not inferior. No man is. No elf is. We are all equal.’

He smothered her with a devastating kiss. ‘I never thought it would be possible to love you more, but every time you manage to surprise me,’ he whispered on her lips.

Sebastian cleared his throat to remind them they were not alone. ‘Perhaps now is the time to clean yourselves up,’ he said. ‘And Hawke, I truly enjoyed and admired your display of moral anger and how you put the Comte de Launcet into his place. I only hope it will not lead you into problems.’

‘Even more problems?’ grimaced Albran. ‘I don’t think that’s possible. So, are you now going to explain your presence in our house and what’s it all about?’

The former prince shot her an enigmatic smile. ‘No, but you’ll find out soon enough. Just wait here in the hall when you’re finished.’

‘I do hope all the mysteriousness is worth it,’ she grumbled, ‘or there will be hell to pay.’ She took Fenris’s hand in hers and started walking to the staircase.

Sebastian heard her grouse to the elf while they ascended the stairs. ‘Want to bet it’s some kind of surprise party? I know it is, I just know. Of course that bloody dwarf couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I hate surprise parties. And he’s damn well aware of that. This is payback. Mark my words.’

-

And yes, it turned out Hawke was right, but this was a surprise party she possibly couldn’t hate. Varric led them with a smug expression through the dining room into the garden where the rest of their friends and the servants were waiting for them, and for a while Albran wasn’t able to speak.

Her poor neglected patch of with weed overgrown soil was transformed into a pleasure garden. There was a newly laid out terrace of beautiful dark grey granite tiles, furnished with a wooden bench and chairs around a large table, and there stood several terracotta pots filled with bright autumn flowers. Woodblocks burned in a brick hearth and cast iron braziers, chasing away the cold of the autumn evening. Colourful chrysanthemums and asters were also planted in the mould among shrubs and bushes that glistened with bright little lights.

And in the middle of it all stood an Aldáran tree, also known as the Tree of Love because of its heart shaped leaves.

‘You like it? Do you like it?’ Merrill was practically jumping up and down with thrilled anticipation.

‘I, I ... I don’t know what to say,’ Albran stuttered truthfully. ‘This is magnificent. “Thank you” seems far too simple.’ Suddenly irritating tears were burning behind her eyes.

‘And we planted lots of bulbs,’ Merrill babbled excitedly, ‘so you have tulips and daffodils and crocuses and snowdrops in the spring!’

‘You bloody well _should_ like it, it’s your wedding present,’ Varric declared. ‘Notice the little plaque under the Aldáran tree? It has your names on it, and the date of your marriage. The _real_ date,’ he added sourly.

‘But how, how did you manage all this so fast?’ Hawke waved her arm around in astonishment.

‘With a lot of hard work,’ Varric grumbled, ‘and a lot of pushing around from one particularly exasperating elf.’ He scowled at Merrill.

‘You see,’ Orana said, ‘this is why we wanted you out of the way. With Rascal. I don’t think he would have been much of a help.’

‘No,’ Hawk mumbled, ‘I imagine he’d dug up the plants quicker than you could put them into the earth. Where did you leave him anyway?’

‘In the library,’ Aveline grinned, ‘and he wasn’t very pleased with it, so I hope he won’t attack your books.’

‘And those lovely little lights ..?’

‘Enchantment!’ Sandal happily beamed.

‘Of course.’ She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. ‘But Fenris and I were planning to throw a party tomorrow.’

‘Yes,’ Varric said morosely, ‘and that’s exactly why we’re having one today. You’re not the only one who can organise a surprise, you know. Although this one is much nicer than the one you came up with.’

‘Oh Varric, stop fretting like your chest hair has wilted,’ Isabela piped up. ‘As long as there are enough drinks and plenty of good food, I’m pleased.’

‘Why don’t you take a seat, Messeres, and let Orana and me take care of the catering,’ Bodahn proposed.

‘What do you think, Fenris?’ Merrill as good as squeaked. ‘You haven’t said anything!’

‘Better keep it that way,’ Varric whinged ‘He won’t utter anything but a load of bullshit.’

‘Alright Varric, that’s more than enough,’ Aveline said firmly. ‘Sit down and shut up yourself before I put a sock in it.’

For the first time in his life Fenris smiled broadly at the Dalish elf. ‘Like Albran already mentioned, it _is_ magnificent. And I take it you had the biggest hand in it?’ She nodded with large bright eyes. ‘Thank you. You did a great job.’

It brought Merrill as close to tears as Albran already was.

‘It was her idea to start with,’ Isabela said with warm affection. ‘And we all agreed. I suggested a membership to the Blooming Rose, but I suppose this is better.’

It became a memorable wonderful night with lots of toasts and well wishes and, on behalf of Sebastian, blessings. Although Hawke couldn’t suppress a little twang of sadness that Anders couldn’t be with them, despite what he had done to her. That specific night would always have three sides, forever etched into her memory. The two dark ones of losing a treasured friend and attached to that the reason why. And the bright one of Fenris coming to her rescue and his decision of staying with her. She secretly admitted she missed Anders. The Anders from before that night. The Anders that had once been a treasured friend.

Little did she know this would be the last carefree night she would be able to celebrate for quite a long time.

-

Knight Commander Meredith glared at the young man standing opposite her desk. He had introduced himself as Herric of Cumberland and she was wondering how he had found access so easily.

‘I have information you will find exhilarating,’ the young man said.

‘Is that so. And what kind of information might that be?’ she replied gruffly.

‘I’m positive it is. It’s about the Champion.’

Meredith raised an eyebrow; her interest was triggered. She was still licking her wounds and brooding on revenge, simmering with unrefined wrath. The sooner she could arrest that wretched she-demon and her elven lover the better. She didn’t care on what charge, she’d invent one if need be. She knew damn well that at least half of Kirkwall was laughing in their sleeves, and among them a lot of nobles. She would find a way to imprison them too. Look who would be laughing then. The young man from Cumberland produced a letter and something that looked like an amulet, and put the items before her on the desk. She unfolded the letter and started reading, gradually vibrating with triumph.

 

_“My dear friend,_

_It pleases me to inform you everything is going according to plan. It is good to hear our Northern allies are already on their way to help us getting rid of KCM. As good as it is to know MUM is alert and ready to strike. Soon after the wedding we can set our scheme into motion. Thank you for your gift. I shall wear it so that I can be recognized and prove I am on the right side._

_With love, AH”_

‘MUM?’

‘The Mage Underground Movement,’ Marius explained, marvelling in the stupidity and ignorance of the Templars.

Meredith picked up the pendant. ‘And this is a Tevinter Chantry amulet,’ she quivered hoarsely, a cruel grin blooming on her face. ‘Now I have her.’ She looked at Herric. ‘Where did you find these?’

‘She was carrying them with her; I confess I picked her pockets when we were at the Hanged Man.’

Meredith squinted with a sudden wave of suspicion that, however, soon got smoothed down. ‘Why are you doing this?’ At his answer her grin reappeared.

‘Because I bear a grudge against her; she murdered my brother. I befriended the Chantry brother Sebastian Vael to get close to her. I was planning on killing her, but I thought this was more fitting.’ He reciprocated her grin. ‘I reckoned it is more satisfying to witness the disgraceful downfall of the Champion of Kirkwall than to leave her lifeless body in a gutter in Lowtown.’

‘Oh, and disgraceful it will be,’ Meredith murmured with feverishly shining eyes. ‘You will be generously rewarded. If you will excuse me now, I believe I have an arrest to make.’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be too hasty,’ Marius said calmly.

‘Why not? I have all the proof I need. Why not march to her estate right now and drag her back to the Gallows?’

‘Because there is a much better moment. Please, hear me out.’

-

Oh yes, it had been so simple to persuade the Knight Commander, Marius mused later that evening in yet another cave. Gods, she had been even more insane than he had imagined and so easy to knock over! He had sent a message to the Senate in Minrathous. He knew they had already ships in the Amaranthine Ocean that could be in Kirkwall within a few days. He cast a sidelong glance on Anders. The mage had apparently given up his search for his precious gift and sat unanimated with his back against a wall, looking sad and tired. He had yet to decide what to do with him. Probably he had to kill him after all was over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand Marius thinks he needs only a silly amulet to get to his goal ... Maybe he is right too, in this crazy city ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

-

Hawke recognized this was by far the most peculiar place for a secret meeting, and at the same time the most obvious, considering the circumstances. She should have thought of it herself but, of course, it had been Varric’s suggestion.

After the scene with Guillaume de Launcet, she had felt the urge for another meeting with Marlein Selbrech. Only the next morning it had got through to her that her relieving but offending rant, could have dire consequences. She doubted Meredith could arrest her for being rude to a nobleman, even _her_ authority didn’t go that far – she hoped. Uncertainty always lingered in the background. But who knew with what de Launcet himself would come up to pester her. And Lady Selbrech had more insight in the possible actions he could take. Not that she was scared but she didn’t like unpleasant surprises. The only problem had been the location, since she had deemed it unwise to take the risk of going to Lowtown once more; she was afraid they would be followed by more dangerous spies than Varric. But that problem was cunningly solved by the dwarf himself.

Varric had been adamant to be present this time, a demand she could impossibly decline. He had made it clear enough how much she had hurt him by shutting him out before (‘ _Three times, madam,’_ he’d said, waving his finger threatening in her face, ‘ _so_ _don’t you dare to insult me a fourth time!_ ’) to give her a feeling of guilt as big as if she had committed adultery. She even had contemplated inviting Aveline but had dismissed the idea. The Guard Captain had trouble enough as it was to stay out of the Knight Commander’s path and to meander between the Templars, the Seneschal and the nobles without getting bitten. No need to make life more difficult for her. And so she had just sent a message to Lady Selbrech and her fellow conspirators to come to the cellar of the Amell estate and use the entrance near to Anders’s now empty and ruined clinic.

Varric had told her what had happened over there and she had gone down through the cellar to witness the destruction with her own eyes. She had been shocked by the sight of the ferocious, frustrated fury with which the place had been smashed to bits. And she had felt immensely sorry, not just for Anders, at least for the part of him that in such dedicated way had run the clinic, but even more for the people in Darktown. They had little to nothing to start with and now had lost the only person who had been willing to take care of them. She had made a pledge to herself to do something about it as soon as possible. Perhaps she could fund a clinic run by healers from the Circle, once Meredith was removed.

‘You see,’ Varric declared while they were standing in the part of the basement behind the wine cellar in the midst of the discarded debris of generations of Amells, ‘even if Madam Moron decides on a raid on your house because one Comte de Launcet rushed indignantly screaming into her office, demanding retribution, she won’t find you in the company of shady persons. You’ll be tucked safely away in your own shelter.’

‘I think you can hardly call Lady Selbrech a shady person,’ Hawke protested.

‘You know perfectly well what I mean. And before you start about the severe dent the Knight Commander’s pride and authority have suffered, I tell you that she is like a cornered animal right now. And if even a shabby cat can turn into a bloodthirsty monster on such an occasion, I fear she will become an all devastating dragon. A dragon with a whole army behind her to boot. Better safe than sorry.’

‘I agree with the dwarf,’ Fenris said in a tone that brooked no peremptory. And he looked as if he was willing to tie her to a bedpost if she didn’t comply. Not quite an unappealing prospect, mind you.

‘I am hardly surprised,’ Albran answered with a hot sultry smile, her thoughts suddenly musing over manacles, silk ribbons, velvet blindfolds and perhaps a suggestion of leather, as if she had guessed her husband’s fantasy. Which was pretty much the truth, because she more or less had seen it in his sensual look. If Fenris guessed her imaginations, he was wise enough not to hint at them with Varric present. In fact, he threw her a suspicious and after that comprehending look back, a look that became more heated when she licked her lips in a not to misunderstand way. To emphasise her sudden hot fantasies she slowly folded her arms behind her back, never breaking that near igniting, though concealed glance. She imagined his pupils shot to black, though it was hard to say in the dim light of the cellar. They would be near to black anyway. Nevertheless...

It wasn’t hard to almost literary read her mind and he considered the possibilities with a cautious inward smile. Because, indeed, one couldn’t be too careful with the dwarf around. Next you could find aforesaid thoughts in a saucy suggestive book with a scrambled version of your very name on the cover.

_He caught her in mid stride and imprisoned her in his arms. In a heartbeat he tied her arms behind her back to the bedpost with the leather belt he snatched as nimble as a pickpocket out of the loops of her smooth linen trousers. Her eyes grew wide and her breath hitched._

_‘Fenris?’_

_‘Don’t you think I didn’t see that special look in your eyes,’ he rumbled, his pupils dark with want ... shit!_

He coughed, trying to hide his sudden arousal. Albran sniggered and the dwarf just looked slightly confused. Probably thanks to the dim light, he even seemed to miss, or at least misinterpret, the brief but intense look they shared. _Good. Keep him in that state. No need to fuel his curiosity._

They dragged some chairs that were piled up against the walls to the middle of the room and tried to chase the gloom away with a few lanterns and candles.

Shortly after nightfall, a coded rap on the cellar door sounded and Lady Selbrech entered in the company of Ser Theodore of Wildervale and someone she introduced as Baron Philippe de Beaumont. Despite his name he was dressed in sturdy plain armour, instead of frivolous impractical frills and ruches.

Hawke tilted her head and eyed the man with interest. ‘I take it you’re of Orlesian origin..?’ she said, the question that almost sounded as an accusation hovering in the air.

The baron, a tall, strong built man in probably his mid-thirties, with a shock of red curly hair and bright if not sparkling blue eyes, smiled roguishly. ‘Not every Orlesian nobleman is an inbred insufferable prig, Lady Hawke,’ he said with a disarming smirk. ‘I would be honoured to assist you in your fight against the Knight Commander, if only to prove to you I don’t belong to the narrow-minded, biased, contemptible kind of nobility.’ He actually winked at her at those words.

Hawke nearly blushed. ‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ she managed.

Lady Selbrech looked appreciatively around. ‘This is indeed a very interesting location for a secret gathering, and probably the safest in town at the moment.’

‘Are you certain you haven’t been followed?’ Fenris asked. He lounged in a deceptively nonchalant way against a pillar with his arms folded, but his eyes wandered attentively between the visitors and the entrance to Darktown. Fantasies were fine, more than fine, especially with the probability of becoming real, but at this very moment he needed to be focused on whatever danger could arise.

‘Definitely positive. We have been very vigilant ourselves and in addition I had some members of my militia secretly stalking behind us, looking out for any possible spies.’

Varric cocked his eyebrow. ‘Militia? I’ve heard about their existence but never seen evidence. They’re like a legend.’ Expectantly he looked at her. Perhaps this story could cure his writers’ block illness.

‘So, much like your army of elven urchins,’ Fenris remarked dryly.

Varric shot him a cheeky grin but didn’t reply.

Lady Selbrech shrugged her shoulders in an absentminded way. ‘We don’t keep a standing army around all the time, only when need arises. It has been a nobles’ right for a long time; since the Tevinters were driven away to be exact. In the days that anarchy ruled and every man had to use all means to defend their lives and properties.’

‘Welcome to the wonderful world of Lowtown and the Undercity,’ Albran mumbled. The words had hardly left her mouth or she felt the gaze of Philippe de Beaumont upon her.

‘I understand you started your career in Kirkwall as a refugee from Ferelden, Serah Hawke. You have come a long way.’

She beamed at him, though rather mockingly. ‘Try a journey through the Deep Roads and accidently kill an Arishok and I’m certain you too will get a round of applause. And as a by-product the title of Champion. You can even forget you are of Orlesian descent.’ 

He bowed his head courteously and flashed her a dazzling smile. ‘I believe you on your word, Champion, though at the same time I doubt it. Not many people would have been able to achieve what you have done.’

He all of a sudden made her think of a certain elf Isabela once had told her about. The smooth talking, devastatingly handsome and apparently perfect lover called Zevran, always according to the pirate queen, of course. A former Crow who had pledged his loyalty to the Hero of Ferelden and played his significant part in ending the Blight. Her vivid, though rather dreamily description of the glorious elf suited this Orlesian noble. At least his demeanour did, as far as she could grasp it. A pity Isabela wasn’t around to clarify. She was well aware of the piercing glower of Fenris and basked in it, hardly being able to stifle a giggle. Being praised by a flattering playful Orlesian noble who at the same time almost got skewered for his action by one of her husband’s notorious knife-like stares was – arousing.

In the meantime Varric held fervently on to any possibility to get rid of what he considered a major affliction. ‘And how is it the Knight Commander approves? She is so paranoid, I bet she even believes the rats in Darktown are plotting against her, let alone it sits easy with her the nobles suddenly surround themselves with armed hirelings.’

With a perfectly straight face Lady Selbrech said, ‘She has to. She can’t deny the Champion and her husband a guard of honour by the nobility’s militia, can she. They have been practising for ages to get the salutes right.’ A small enigmatic smile played around her lips. ‘Of course they have lots of other – useful skills Meredith isn’t aware of.’

Varric burst out with laughter. ‘I like the way you think, madam!’

But Hawke frowned. ‘If every noble house has a right to keep some kind of army around, then also the ones who, how shall I put it, don’t bear warm feelings for me. It could well be they will use their soldiers for another purpose then just chivalrous salutes.’

 ‘No,' Philippe de Beaumont chortled, ‘if they bear anything for you it will be a grudge. But you needn’t concern yourself, Champion; even if the de Launcets and their sorts think about calling upon the militia, they will keep their soldiers as a sort of decoration; they will wear more plumes than weaponry and they’ll be better trained in parading around as expensive peacocks, than to be at use in real combat.’

‘I am pretty sure not only Orlesian nobles despise Albran,’ Fenris remarked. ‘And how many of you have come up with the same idea? Are you aiming for civil war?’

 ‘Please, take a seat,’ Albran said, waving around at the chairs, ‘and enjoy a glass of wine.’ She was getting tired of all the worrying, especially because she had done that herself quite a lot lately. She desperately wanted to hear some positive words.

‘On the contrary, Serah Fenris, we are trying to prevent one from starting, although I can understand your anxiety,’ Marlein Selbrech said, while she sat down. ‘But perhaps I can reassure you by telling that we have made it very clear we were gathering a guard of honour and none of the Champion’s opponents have recruited soldiers so far. Nevertheless, we must move with the utmost care.’ She shot de Beaumont a chastising glare. ‘We talked about this, Philippe, you’re thinking far too light-hearted about the tension that has the city in its grasp.’

De Beaumont lifted his hand in a peaceful gesture. ‘Yes, all right, my dear friend, I’m only trying to let the situation sound not so weighty. Just to let you know that I do take this seriously, I’m having my best man keeping a close eye on Edgert the Hound.’

 Ser Theodore of Wildervale looked bothered. ‘Why? What is the slippery weasel planning this time?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but he has been bootlicking Meredith of late; more than usual I mean. And that can’t be a good sign.’

‘Edgert the Hound ..?’ Hawke said hesitantly.

‘Ser Edgert de Montfort,’ Varric filled her in. ‘Really Hawke, know your enemies.’

‘Then I can only hope he and de Launcet stumbled upon each other on the threshold of Meredith’s office,’ Albran grinned. ‘They may hate me, they hate one another even more.’

‘Let’s pray they will remember it too,’ Varric mumbled.

‘Our plans for overthrowing Meredith will have to wait until after your wedding,’ Lady Selbrech said. ‘Right now, we better find out if the Knight Commander is preparing a nasty action on that same day, and how to prevent it if she is.’

Albran almost choked on a sip of wine and Varric made it worse by beating her back viciously. ‘Wait, you don’t think she will try something on our wedding day?’

‘I can hardly imagine it, but I’m not certain,’ Marlein Selbrech sighed. ‘In the state she’s in ... well, who can predict the deeds of an insane person, let alone of an insane tyrant?’

 

Knight Commander Meredith leant back in her chair and drummed with her fingers on the surface of her desk. She repeated in her head the conversation she just had had with Knight Lieutenant Eldon. On purpose she had ignored her Knight Captain. The way he had handled the assault of that dreadful impertinent elf and the atrocious behaviour of the Champion, had convinced her that Cullen was growing soft. At this moment she needed strong-minded and resolute men by her side, men who didn’t hesitate to do what must be done. She needed people she could rely on, not weak-hearted negotiators. Ser Eldon could be cold, cruel even, but he never questioned her decisions and simply carried out her orders.

They had discussed Herric’s proposal within detail. It was a bold plan, but if it succeeded it would be glorious and gratifying and more than a satisfaction for the insults and humiliations she had suffered. And she saw no reason why it would fail. She had to get Cullen out of the way, however, before he got the chance to get diplomatic yet again. He would stay in the Gallows with a small complement of the Templars to guard the mages, so he couldn’t interfere. Yes, the man had grown weak; she had always had a tender spot for him, but perhaps now was the time to remove him. Simply dismissing him could go too far though; it could even be dangerous. There were too many men who would follow him without question. He was well loved and admired. He could raise an army. An army to march against her. She had to forestall that dire scenario at any cost. She stopped tapping her desk and a thin smile appeared on her face. She could make him Orsino’s personal guard dog and force him to report punctually every day. In that case she could keep a watchful eye on the both of them.

-

Anders was growing more restless day by day. He had the nagging feeling something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger upon it. It was not only because he got sick and tired of waiting and doing nothing. After the meeting with Ser Thrask, his apprentice came and went as he pleased without giving much explanation. Sometimes he disappeared for days in a row. When that happened, Anders intended to confront him with it afterwards and demand firmly any updates about his progress and why he was kept out of whatever Marius was doing. The longer he thought about it, the more he became convinced Marius wasn’t the person he claimed to be. But every time the boy showed up again, he managed to restore his confidence and to dissolve his suspicion. Still, the strange loss, or perhaps vanishing, of his precious amulet kept troubling him. It was weird, if not alarming, and he couldn’t get it out of his head his apprentice had something to do with it, although he couldn’t fathom why he would steal it from him. But every time he wanted to broach the subject, something came in between. No, he corrected himself, it seemed more like he wasn’t able to ask the question, as if the words got stuck in his throat. As usual Justice wasn’t much of a help; when he tried to converse with him about his concerns, that blasted spirit kept grousing about how they should hurry up with freeing the mages instead of sitting around caverns and clearings.

Up until now. Suddenly Justice stirred and grumbled, ‘Maybe we shouldn’t put our trust so wholly into the apprentice.’

‘So, finally you also realise there is something odd about him.’

‘Yes. His planning takes too long. I think he has given in to sloth.’

With a deep aggravated groan Anders buried his face in his hands. Stupid, blind, useless Justice. Next time Marius turned up and left again just like that, he would follow him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning beforehand: sex

Chapter 15

 

It was long after midnight when they broke up the gathering with the promise to meet again two nights before the wedding to speak about the last details. Hawke felt exhausted. Philippe de Beaumont had come up with the idea of joining the three forces and to provide them with the same equipment. They would be supplied with bright, wide falling capes to conceal the short swords and shields they would be carrying on their backs in case something bad would happen. Theodore of Wildervale had thought of a cunning formation that could change the units into a phalanx in hardly any moments. It had been very good suggestions, certainly, but Hawke loathed the thought of her wedding day turning into a battle event.

Fenris felt her nervous tension while they walked to their bedroom. And definitely saw it in the manner how she almost attacked the door to open it.

‘You’re very strained.’

‘Is it any wonder?’ she snapped. ‘I really could do with some repose.’ She marched towards the bed with the intention to collapse at full length on the mattress.

‘Do you now.’ He caught her in mid stride and imprisoned her in his arms. In a heartbeat he tied her arms to the bedpost behind her back with the leather belt he snatched nimble as a pickpocket out of the loops of her smooth linen trousers. Her eyes grew wide and her breath hitched.

‘Fenris?’

‘Don’t think I didn’t see that special look in your eyes earlier this evening,’ he rumbled, his silvery green irises dark with want. ‘And I think it is what you need right now.’ He lowered his head and grazed her lips but pulled back the moment she tried to fully kiss him. A smirk appeared on his face. ‘Ever so hasty. Ever so greedy.’

He took her in, how vulnerable she looked, tied up, all at his disposal. Completely in his power. Shortly his thoughts strayed to the times his master had treated him like this and he almost shrank back. But then he realised he no longer had a master and this was just a game. A perilous one, maybe, and surely thrilling, but a game. And no, not even perilous. The moment she didn’t want to go on with it, she could urge him to stop. The moment he got too wound up with his past he could also. He took a reassuring breath. And then remembered what she had gone through. His heart dropped. Urge him to stop ... what was he thinking. He reached for the bonding but was halted by her voice.

‘It’s alright, my love. Please continue. You are not him. I trust you.’ She sounded so husky and seductive he hardened in an instant.

He was almost shocked by how she caught his thoughts and feelings so easily. _And_ you _are_ _not_ him. _Damn_! ‘Are you certain?’ he whispered. She just nodded. And gave him such a wanton smirk from under half lid eyes he could only carry on. He took courage. No, he was not Danarius and neither was she. And he certainly was not Anders.

‘Let’s take our time,’ he said so huskily it turned her on even more. With one of his fingertips he caressed her cheek, her lips, but he pulled back the moment she wanted to catch the digit with her teeth. He touched the fastenings of her armour and opened them, one by one, slowly. The supple leather fell back and pooled around her arms, revealing the thin cotton tunic she wore beneath. He smiled predatorily. It didn’t take him long to shred the flimsy fabric and leave her in just her breast band. Without taking his eyes from her face he undid the lacing of her trousers. With a wicked grin he stroked for the briefest of moments the treasure that lay behind the thin layer of fabric. She bucked, gasping. 

‘No, my love.’ He stepped back. It was oddly arousing to behold her like this, strapped up and at his mercy. Only now, seeing her so vulnerable and defenceless, he truly realised she belonged to him. And at that very moment knew he really in all honesty could give himself fully to her. It was a strange, contradictory feeling. But now, now it was perfectly clear she trusted him completely, despite what had happened to her, he could completely trust _her_ , despite what had happened to him. He would never harm her of course, he just wanted to worship her, still mesmerised he could call this beautiful and intriguing woman his own. He let his fingers glide over her sides and buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent. He heaved his hands and slowly freed her locks from the pins she had used to wrap it up in an untidy bun. He adored and smelled every tress that came free and fell over her back. His lips traced along her skin, descending down her neck and shoulders while he freed her of her breast band. He cupped her mounds while he nuzzled the crook of her shoulder and his thumbs rubbed her erect pink beads. ‘What shall I do with you?’ he hummed in her ear.

It made her shudder. She swallowed hard. ‘Whatever you want,’ she croaked. Fenris’s behaviour was strangely exciting. She didn’t know what had driven him to this, but she revelled in it. It was easy to surrender because she knew he never would do anything against her will. Not he.

He pressed his frame against hers to let her feel how much he craved for her. ‘I want to gobble you up,’ he whispered, softly nibbling her earlobe. This time Albran could only moan. He kissed her throat, the line of her jaw and then the tip of his tongue delicately licked her lower lip. She made a keening sound when he took access of her mouth and his hands slipped into her pants and gripped her behind, pushing her even firmer to him. Sensually his tongue entwined with hers and she thought she would faint. They were both panting when he finally broke the kiss to take some air.

She leaned her head against the bedpost and closed her eyes the moment he lowered his head to suck and gracefully bite her nipples. He went down on his knees and removed her trousers and underwear, in the meantime showering her abdomen with hot kisses. He flicked his tongue around her swollen pearl and she cried out in delight. ‘Oh Maker!’ His fingers played skilfully with her damp folds. She wanted to melt into his touch and felt her height building fast. But moments before her release he halted and stood up again. She groaned his name in frustration. ‘You’re killing me here!’

He chuckled softly. ‘Don’t worry, my impatient love.’

He lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist. She sharply moved her hips forward to catch him but he grasped her tightly to keep her still. Before she could utter another protest he covered her lips with his and again took possession of her mouth in an overpowering way. At the same time he slowly pushed his shaft inside her hungering sheath. His hand clasped around her thigh, his arm encircled her waist and his lips shifted to her jaw and throat. His thrusts became urgent while he sucked and bit the soft skin of her neck.

Albran felt the explosion starting and only heartbeats later she got swivelled away when a mighty orgasm almost ripped her apart. If Fenris hadn’t moved his hands to her hips to hold her steady she had sank to the floor and had probably dislocated her shoulders. He leaned his forehead against hers and let her slowly come to her senses. At the same time he restrained with all the self-control he could muster the impulse to climax himself. When her breath evened out somewhat, he untied her and removed the leather armour that was still dangling around her arms. She slumped forward but he caught her safely in his arms. She groaned something unintelligible while he lifted her and laid her on the bed with the adoration as if she was a goddess.

He got rid of his clothes and covered her still trembling body with his and framed her face. She embraced him gratefully, hardly able to hold back her tears when she saw the dedication in his eyes, mixed with passionate desire. ‘I’m not done with you yet,’ he murmured and his hard length teased her entrance, immediately rekindling the fire, that had hardly extinguished, in full force.

He glided easily through her fluids deep inside her, full of care and tenderness and grunted at the divine feeling. He set a slow pace but soon couldn’t withhold any longer and pounded feverishly in her. Her walls surrounded him once more and narrowed strongly when a new orgasm took her and he followed her, calling out her name. He collapsed on her, hiding his face in her shoulder, tasting the sweet sweat on her skin.

‘Within a few days the whole of Kirkwall will know you are my wife,’ he managed when he was able to speak again, ‘tonight you are mine exclusively.’

Albran laughed throatily. ‘I will always be yours exclusively.’

He turned on his side, still holding her close. He took a quivering breath. ‘I hope you’re not angry with me.’

‘She chuckled hoarsely. ‘For what? Giving me two wonderful orgasms?’

‘For tying you up.’ He dragged his fingers through her silken hair.

She chortled softly and kissed his shoulder. ‘If this is your idea of bondage, I totally go with it. It had more to do with devotion than dominance.’ After some heartbeats she added, ‘just as you did approach the idea of make up sex.’

He grinned and the sound of his voice crawled down her spine in a very pleasant way. ‘I suppose it did.’

‘Perhaps next time I should tie you up and take the lead,’ she teased chuckling.

‘Perhaps you should.’

She frowned and lifted her head. ‘You would let me?’

He smiled softly. ‘Why not? You trusted me. Is there a reason I shouldn’t return the favour?’ he asked rhetorically. Her eyes flew open with fear he meant it in earnest but then she spotted the twinkling, loving and slightly teasing look in his silvery green orbs. ‘Of course I trust you. Do you think I would have married you otherwise? I’m yours, remember.’

‘I don’t deserve you,’ Albran mumbled, feeling a little ashamed.

‘Strange. I always thought it was the other way around.’

‘Don’t talk rubbish,’ she said and nestled deeper into his arms. Gradually they fell asleep, happy and satisfied.

-

Whether Sebastian wanted to or not, Hawke and Fenris spent the last night before the wedding together in a room in the Hanged Man. ‘You don’t have grounds for any comment whatsoever,’ Albran had said doggedly to the Chantry brother, after he had tentatively brought up the subject once again, ‘since we are married already.’

‘But the occupants of the Hanged Man don’t know that,’ Sebastian had tried against better judgement, ‘and neither does the rest of Kirkwall.’

Rebelliously Hawke had stuck out her chin. ‘I’m fairly certain no one but you and perhaps a few of your prudish brethren will give a rat’s arse.’ She had taken Fenris’s hand and with a shameless display of brazen defiance had guided him out of the taproom, upstairs to their appointed room. Fenris had smiled apologetically at the former prince though he hadn’t been able to hide a triumphant look.

Sebastian had sighed in defeat.

The first words Albran uttered when she woke up the following morning were, ‘How’s the weather?’ Because that’s about the first thing a bride wants to know on the day of her wedding.

Fenris cracked an eye open. ‘And how am I supposed to know?’

He pulled her back in his arms when she started to get out of bed to inspect the weather conditions herself and snuggled close to her warm body. ‘Just a few more minutes,’ he mumbled, pleading desperately. He had dreaded this day and wanted a little more time before all the excitement would burst out. He didn’t get the chance, however, because the next moment Varric came bustling in, pure animated activity. He was closely followed by Merrill who managed to look tense, expectant and cheerful all at once. Fenris groaned and dragged the blanket over his head.

‘No more stalling, elf!’ Varric merrily called out. ‘Time to put on your shoes!’

Fenris groaned some more.

Hawke sat up and tried to peel the blanket off him but he held on to it like a vice. ‘Oh come on, love, it can’t be that bad,’ she said sweetly, in an attempt to mollify him.

‘No, it’s worse,’ Fenris groused stubbornly. His voice sounding muffled, due to the covers.

‘I believe we’re having a case of someone getting cold feet,’ chimed Isabela who was just entering the room.

‘The more reason for him to put on those shoes,’ Varric grinned devilishly.

Albran folded her arms over her hardly covered chest and scowled at the dwarf. ‘Ugh. Shame on you, Varric; this must be by far the worst joke you ever told in your entire life. Now get out of our room, all of you, and give us some space. It’s getting too crowded in here. I promise we will be down for breakfast shortly.’

After they had left, Fenris reappeared with his hair in complete disarray, looking flushed and absolutely adorable. ‘Thank you. Sorry for the childish behaviour, but being harassed by a gloating Varric is definitively not my favourite way of waking up.’

Albran chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his nose while she ruffled tenderly through his moonlike bangs. ‘I can sympathise but I’m afraid you can’t avoid being tormented soon.’

‘I promise I will suffer all the ordeals they will let me go through for your benefit,’ Fenris declared solemnly, kissing her back.

-

An hour later she was being tormented herself.

Fenris had been ushered into Varric’s suite with a face as gloomy as if he entered a chamber of horrors and Albran, Merrill and Isabela had retreated in the room the happy to be married couple had shared last night.

‘Oh Andraste’s burning tits, sit still Hawke!’ Isabela exclaimed.

‘Ouch! That hurts!’

‘Of course it hurts because you’re wriggling like a worm on a hook! Honestly, doesn’t Fenris brush your hair?!’

‘As a matter of fact he does now and again and far gentler than you do right now, I might add!’ yelled Hawke indignantly.

‘That’s because he knows he will have sex with you afterwards. I won’t.’ The pirate gleamed with sudden smugness. ‘Won’t I?’

‘No!’

Isabela smirked. ‘That’s what I thought. So, shut up and let me do your hair. Maker’s balls, be grateful I’m bothering with this. Kitten, where did you leave those roses you could put your hands upon?’

‘Please, Isabela,’ the petite elf piped up, ‘would you stop pulling more hair out of her head? She will have nothing left to stick those roses in! That can’t be good!’

‘Indeed Isabela, listen to Merrill,’ Hawke said viciously. ‘It’s not my fault you didn’t get laid last night. Save my scalp.’

The pirate queen defiantly planted her hands on her hips. ‘Actually it _is_ your fault,’ she complained. ‘If you hadn’t got it into your head to get married before the planned date, I could have organised one hell of a henparty in the Blooming Rose. And I mean a _really_ exciting one.’

Hawke turned to her, glaring daggers. ‘And what makes you think I would have agreed to participate in whatever extremities your dirty mind would have come up with to perform in the Rose? I would be a retarded dipstick to make use of a whore, while I have the most exquisite and irresistible elf in the whole of Thedas within arm’s reach. And besides all that, I would never hurt him.’

‘Whoring is not committing adultery!’ Isabela wailed.

‘Perhaps in your book it isn’t, but I would still hurt Fenris and that is the last thing I want to do,’ Albran stated firmly.

The pirate queen mumbled something under her breath about being narrow-minded and an insufferable stick-in-the-mud but she was wise enough not to say it out loud. ‘You could at least have granted me the pleasure,’ she grumbled instead. ‘After all, I will be wearing that ridiculous far too boring and decent dress all day for your sake. I never thought I could be persuaded to do such an appalling thing. A henparty would have been so much better!’’

‘Then you can have a night in the Rose on me if it’s so important to you and make your wildest fantasies come true. As long as you don’t drag me along,’ Hawke snapped. She realised she sounded ungrateful and sighed. ‘You must not think I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, Isabela,’ she started meekly, ‘but –‘

‘Oh shush, you goose. I’m only kidding you.’ Isabela cocked her head. ‘Although I admit I’d have loved it if the two of us would have got the Rose in an uproar. Oh well. Now, Kitten, give me those flowers.’

Deftly she fumbled with Hawke’s locks, piling and pinning them up in a deceivingly simple way with a few strands nonchalantly curling along her face and down her neck. As some sort of pièce the résistance she elegantly stuck a few pink roses into the hairdo. ‘There. Done.’ She held up a mirror. ‘Satisfied?’

Albran stared at her reflexion and was speechless. ‘You did a wonderful job,’ she managed in the end, ‘thank you.’

‘And don’t you forget it,’ Isabela grinned. ‘Now let us get you into that dress.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lovely wedding, Danarius appears and Meredith makes her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tension is building till breaking-point...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 16

 

Meredith walked with a brisk gait through the corridors of the Gallows. She was accompanied by Knight Lieutenant Mettin, who seemed to hang onto her lips and very words. ‘Around noon they will arrive at the Viscount’s Way,’ she said, bristling with expectation. ‘All the nobles will be gathered there at that moment. Seek out their positions, much can be told about that. Keep an eye on Marlein Selbrech. I don’t trust that woman, despite we couldn’t find anything to put against her. And the Guard of Honour will be present hours before. Send one of your men ahead to inspect if something is out of order. Or rather, go yourself but be subtle. We don’t want a commotion – yet. I require a report. But be back in time.’

Ser Mettin bowed lightly. ‘As you command, Messere.’

From a hidden corner Cullen watched them both with great anxiety. Only this morning the Knight Commander had ordered him to stay in the Gallows and at that very moment he had got a serious feeling something was amiss. He had pushed it aside. _She must have good reasons ..._ He felt a movement and turned sharply. He raised his brows when he saw Ser Thrask standing next to him.

‘I’m not sure what she’s planning, but I’m positive it can’t be anything good,’ the Templar said. ‘We should do something.’

‘My hands are tied,’ Cullen said reluctantly. ‘She gave me the order to guard Orsino and the other mages. I have no choice than to follow her wishes.’

Thrask shook his head. ‘You still refuse to see it, don’t you,’ he said softly. ‘Or rather, you refuse to admit it, even now she practically locked you up because she knows you’re the only one who’s able to stand against her. And even that you deny. She is mad, Cullen. She will do something completely insane today and you have the possibility to prevent it. Most of the Templars will listen to you. We must stop her.’

The Knight Captain stared at him. ‘No. I will do as she has told me,’ he answered stubbornly. ‘And I’m certain she won’t do anything rash. I will guard Orsino and the mages, as are my orders. The Knight Commander fears the Circle will seize the opportunity of this day to rebel and she has a valid point. So, I warn you to keep away from the First Enchanter. I wish you no harm but I will arrest you if you do anything out of order.’

‘Have it your way,’ Ser Thrask said in a sad tone. ‘Stay blind and deaf and let the dire consequences come over you.’ He turned and walked away. He was not even disappointed; he had known beforehand Cullen would react in this way, as the dutiful and reliable faithful Knight Captain the man was. He had only wanted to make certain he had tried for the last time to change his mind. That he had done everything in his might to make him see his point of view. He had failed but he couldn’t blame himself. If the Knight Captain frigidly wanted to hold on to his rigid opinion, then that was his business. If he’d get swept away by what was to come, it would be his own fault. So why did he feel guilty? Thrask straitened his shoulders and walked on.

Cullen pressed his lips and once again ignored the unpleasant knotting of his guts.

-

Marius was already on his post at this early hour. He had stolen to the balcony of the mansion of Albran Hawke herself, where he had the best view on the square where the nobles and the Guard of Honour would assemble. Where everything was about to happen. He hid between the vines and leaves of the green ivy, knowing Hawke was elsewhere and her servants would be present in the Alienage with her to witness the wedding. No one would notice him up here. He was safe on his perfect lookout post. He only had to wait for the occurrences to take place. He allowed himself a bleak smile.

-

Anders felt miserable. He knew this was the day Albran and that – mage hater would be joined in matrimony but that was not the only reason for his wretched mood. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t put his finger upon.

He stood before the entrance of the cave he had slept in the previous night, taking in with vague admiration the astounding sight of the sea, littered with tiny islands and sharp rocks rising above the water like sculptured pinnacles. The rising sun made the waves glitter with bright, almost blinding colours. He had seen this scene countless times before. Sometimes the harsh beauty of the view had moved him, now he just carelessly observed it without really seeing anything. The cool autumn wind, always strong on the Wounded Coast, especially at this height, battered his robes. He didn’t feel it.

Mage hater, rabid dog, mindless beast ... he had called Fenris several names over the past years and he tried fervently to hold on to his loath for the elf, but it had become hard. Especially after he had learned that same elf had rushed to the rescue after the mess he himself had caused and left behind. He had despised him for the way he had used and hurt Albran years ago, leaving her torn and shattered. He had never understood why she had tolerated the elf around her afterwards. But what had _he_ done? He shivered at the remembrance of how he had – raped her. There was no other word. He still didn’t comprehend what had driven him that fateful night. He had blamed Justice at first and yes, the spirit had encouraged him in his own non interested, almost bored way.

But the more he thought about it, he hadn’t _pushed_ him. Justice had only tolerated it, to have done with his never ceasing craving for her. And honestly, what did he know about this specific human yearning? Nothing at all.

He had blamed himself but surely he wouldn’t have done something as repulsive as that out of his own will, no matter how much he had longed for her? He loved her too much to stoop that low. He still couldn’t fathom his own action.

Again, as had happened several times over the past weeks, his thoughts swivelled to his young apprentice. There was something uncanny about that boy. Could he ..? No, that was absurd. He bowed his head. He was still looking for someone else to make responsible for what he had done. He shook his head. _He_ was the one responsible, only he.

When he looked up again he thought he caught an outlandish vision. He narrowed his eyes. Was he getting delusional? No, certainly not. There was a ship anchored behind one of the rocky outcrops. What the hell was she doing there?

-

Danarius stood on deck, watching the coastline with curiosity. He could see the outlines of Kirkwall at the horizon. So, this was the place his little wolf had taken refuge. The place where he had met his mate and thought to live with her without any care. The magister smiled coldly. His pet wouldn’t have the chance to enjoy his happiness much longer. The foolish boy might believe he was well out of his master’s grasp, but it wouldn’t be long before he would see the error of his ways and learn the real purpose of his existence once more. A few days. Only a few days. Danarius’s smile became rapaciously. He could muster the patience. A few more days were nothing compared to the years he had tried in vain to get him captured and haul back to him. This time he would collect his pet himself.

-

Fenris was fidgeting nervously. The alien sensation of his feet being clad in shoes, how expensive and fine-looking they might be – he grudgingly had to admit Varric had good taste – didn’t help to ease his tension. He had the feeling he had been waiting for hours in the Alienage for Albran to show up. The place never had looked lovelier and for once didn’t look like a depressing slum. But he had no eyes for the clean houses, the swept floor and the tasteful decorated Vhenadahl Tree. His mind was occupied with other things than paper lilacs and a mud-free environment.

Next to the tree an altar was erected, behind which Sebastian already had taken place, dressed in red and gold like a priest on an important occasion. He kept fiddling with the pages of the book lying in front of him, as if he was searching for some last inspiration.

‘What the hell is taking her so long?!’ Fenris muttered gruffly for the umpteenth time, at the end of his nerves.

‘You shouldn’t worry so,’ Sebastian said reassuringly, although he seemed to be as nervous as the elf, worrying as much a he did. ‘I understand it takes hours to prepare a bride for her wedding; to properly dress her, to do her hair, to adjust some little details no one will notice but in her eyes will stand out like a Qunari in the Chantry.’

Fenris stared incredulously at the former prince. ‘I can hear you have been around Varric quite a lot of late; you begin to sound like him.’

Sebastian grinned rather sheepishly. ‘I’m just trying to set your mind at ease. And, oh look, there she ...’

His voice faltered by the sheer image of Albran Hawke standing at the top of the stairs, flanked by Varric who looked as proud as if she was really his daughter. In Sebastian’s eyes she looked like the Bride of the Maker herself. She appeared to radiate holiness.

Fenris stopped breathing altogether.

She wore a seemingly basic and at first sight plain cream coloured silk dress with a tight body and a wide skirt that hugged her hips and in wide supple folds elegantly fell around her long legs; a stole of the same colour and fabric was loosely draped around her bare shoulders. A few coiling strands of hair were gracing her lovely neck. When she moved down the staircase, holding on to Varric’s arm and almost floated towards him, Fenris noticed absently the dress was embroidered with small roses that glistened softly in the light of the sun that shone through the rustling leaves of the giant tree. She was smiling in a celestial way and seemed to be some kind of heavenly creature, not belonging to this mortal realm. A creature that had descended from the Maker’s City to grace the world with her presence. It looked as if a shining golden aura was surrounding her. Speechless he reached out his hand and Varric laid her hand in his with a graceful nod.

The whole of the Alienage had fallen still in awe, and when Fenris finally found some words, his rough voice chimed in the silence like a bell. ‘I never believed it possible for you to look more beautiful, but here you are, defying my conviction.’ He wanted to fall on his knees for her but instead he pulled her close and kissed her. The elves cheered.

‘It is not custom to kiss the bride before the celebration of the marriage,’ Sebastian protested but they didn’t listen to him.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ Albran said awkwardly, blinking away some tears. ‘Look at you! All dressed up! What’s the occasion?’

Fenris laughed, grateful she had managed to lighten the tension, and kissed her again.

‘No wait, let me admire you.’ She stepped back and took him in. He was wearing an apparently black jacket and matching trousers that however turned into a sort of shiny dark purple in the sunlight and made no secret of his incredible handsome muscled, though lithe frame. The shirt underneath was of the same colour as her dress, which convinced her Varric had known at least the fabric of her gown for a long time. It didn’t surprise her. ‘You look – breath-taking.’

‘Don’t you dare to cry, Hawke,’ Isabela sounded behind her back, ‘it will ruin the make-up!’

Varric nudged her. ‘The shoes, Hawke,’ he hissed, ‘say something about the shoes.’

Her eyes wandered down and widened at the unfamiliar sight of elegantly black leather low boots that hid Fenris’s normally bare feet. She looked up and chuckled. ‘So, that’s what all the fuss was about? They are lovely, Fenris, they suit you. There really was no reason for all the fretting.’

He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. ‘Perhaps I have been exaggerating.’

Albran laughed again and her voice hit his ears like a fresh splashing waterfall. ‘I think you have.’

Sebastian cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps, if you are finally willing to pay attention, we can commence the ceremony..?’

-

From his vantage-point Marius watched the square beneath. The Guard of Honour was already in position; around them stood the City Guard to keep the nobles at bay. The Seneschal and the Guard Captain were waiting on the steps of the Viscount’s Way, the latter constantly scrutinising the crowd. Marius frowned. She was a dangerous enough woman to keep an eye on; she could spoil everything. Knight Commander Meredith had just arrived with a complement of the Templars, but Marius knew she had many more in reserve. His fingers were itching to do something but he was just here to observe, to see to it everything would go according to plan. But even if things went wrong, he couldn’t interfere; it would be too dangerous for his own health to use magic. He had to rely on Meredith and her Templars and he didn’t doubt for one second she would lash out to him if she’d find out he was a mage, regardless he had been a big help. He hated that. Frankly, he hated _her_. She was a despicable woman but he had no choice than to make use of her. The most he hated his fragile position in this blasted idiotic city.

-

Marlein Selbrech was standing among the nobles and their servants. Just as the rest of them, she was wearing her finest clothes instead of her armour. She didn’t feel very comfortable and her hand ached to hold a sword but she had no other option. Of course, it would have been close to suicide to show up as a warrior. She, Wildervale and Beaumont had split up, carefully avoiding any suggestion of a conspiracy as far as possible. She stood staring at Meredith and wondered if the Knight Commander looked more smug than usual, or if it was her vivid imagination that got away with her. She hoped and prayed things would go well and Meredith had no nasty surprise upon her sleeve. She eyed the Guard of Honour. They looked solid and she knew they would spring into action when the moment would call – Maker forbid it would come to that.

-

Aveline was skimming the square, searching for anything out of place. The whole atmosphere seemed to be thrumming with excited anticipation, but thus far she couldn’t sense anything suspicious. She had made Donnic the commander of the group of Guardsmen who accompanied the bride and groom and their retinue from the Alienage to the Keep and she hoped he didn’t encounter any severe trouble. She had posted men along the route Hawke and Fenris would take through Hightown; there had been little more she could have done. She had a hard time to stay quiet and composed and Bran didn’t help much to ease her tension.

‘They are taking their time, aren’t they,’ the Seneschal at this moment grouched sulkily, as to stress her annoyance with the man. But at the same time there seemed to go an animated wave through the waiting people. The buzzing hubbub swelled and everybody was craning their neck. Aveline’s heart picked up a pace and then she saw them. Her eyes widened. They looked stunning. The both of them. The word godlike bubbled up, although she was absolutely not the religious kind. They presented the perfect pair.

For a couple of precious heartbeats she was so distracted that she completely missed the devilishly expression on Meredith’s face.

-

The moment they entered Hightown, Albran felt Fenris tense. The whole way through Lowtown he had been fairly relaxed but now the tight grip on her hand increased. They had been cheered by the elves and the common folk, there had been congratulations and the occasional sexual teemed quip, as could have been expected, and they had had to laugh about it. But now they went into the nobility territory. She mused she’d rather march into a dragon’s den but didn’t show it; she kept smiling.

‘Don’t worry, it will be all right. Remember we have back-up,’ she murmured from the corner of her mouth. By now she wished she had settled with the simple marriage in the Keep and the party with their friends. Yes, she had wanted to make a point, to rub it into the snobs’ noses the Champion married an elf and was more than happy with it. But sensing Fenris’s anguish, not to mention hers, she came to the conclusion it wasn’t worth it. A bit too late, she mused resentfully.

‘I will only stop worrying when this is all over,’ Fenris murmured back. To say he felt ill at ease would be the understatement of the year.

Not moments later his anxiety turned out to be justified.

-

To her immense dread Aveline saw the Knight Commander step into Albran’s and Fenris’s path. This was not going according to the scenario. She didn’t have to turn to the Seneschal to know this was as unexpected for him as it was for her. She felt him go rigid and heard him gasp for breath. Perhaps for the neutral onlooker it seemed Meredith only wanted to congratulate the couple, but all of her senses and instincts screamed out and evidently she wasn’t the only one. Her eyes fervently searched for Knight Captain Cullen but she couldn’t locate him. He was not here. _Fuck!_

And then Meredith lifted her hand, demanding attention. Silence fell heavily upon the square.

‘I hereby arrest the Champion and her husband on the accusation of treason in the worst possible way,’ she as good as screamed out triumphantly. ‘I have the irrefutable proof they have plotted against this city with the assistance of the Tevinter Imperium! There is no excuse for that; Templars, take them into custody!’

Not moments later a pandemonium broke out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: lots of action.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: chaos all over the place.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 17

-

Aveline looked in horror and at first frozen at the scene that unfolded rapidly before her eyes. She saw how Fenris’s markings aggressively flared up in bright blue after Meredith’s outrageous accusation while he pushed Albran behind him, but he stood not a chance. Of course Meredith knew about his lethal skills, even without a visible weapon in his hands. She had anticipated his reaction and she had taken no risks. Before Aveline could interfere, the Templar standing next to the Knight Commander hurled an object into the small wedding procession. The missile exploded and gave out a pungent gas that turned into a thick kind of fog. Aveline reacted with shocked abhorrence.

‘A deathcloud! The bloody bitch used a fucking deathcloud grenade!’ Her voice caught with extreme rage. ‘These are outlawed! The Guard are not even allowed to keep those things in store!’

Next to her Seneschal Bran gasped. ‘What do you mean? She _killed_ them?!’ he shrieked. He might not like the Champion, he might even despise her, but he despised Meredith more. Not to mention he feared her like hell.

‘No, but they wish that were true when they come round again,’ Aveline growled grimly. She drew her sword. ‘Guards, on me!’ she yelled while she jumped down the stairs. She didn’t want a fight but the Knight Commander had left her no choice; she couldn’t leave Hawke and Fenris to her non-existent mercy on the accusation of something that outrageous. The men abandoned their positions behind the Guard of Honour to take flawlessly the new ones behind their Captain. They were, after all, well trained.

‘Protect the Champion and Fenris!!’ Philippe de Beaumont bellowed in the meantime. He brought out a hidden blade from under his cloak with the intention to add to the bedlam in a way he never had dreamed of before. At once he turned into a knight in shining armour, the protector of the Champion herself, no less. Too bad the audience around him weren’t willing to applaud or even cooperate. They merely were busy to stand in his way.

‘Get the traitors!’ Meredith screamed at the same time.

The moment Fenris jumped forward, the gas entered his lungs and blinded his eyes; they burned and began to water. His head started to spin, he felt nauseous. He fought for breath and stumbled, desperately struggling to keep his conscious. But it was a lost battle.

Around his falling body chaos broke out.

-

Marius overlooked the mayhem for not more than a heartbeat before he ran from the balcony into what he assumed was Hawke’s bedroom and raced downstairs. He saw an opportunity to get his hands upon the elf this very moment, an opportunity delivered to him by that hare-brained Knight Commander herself. At first he had planned to remove him out of his prison more or less in the same way he had freed Anders or, if that should have been proved too risky, to wait for the confusion the inevitable attack on the Gallows would cause. The elf was not his priority and he was sure a chance would have presented itself to catch him along the way. But this was so much better. He had to act fast, however, before the Templars could get to him. He cast a spell to protect himself against whatever that gas contained; no one would notice the use of magic at this hectic moment.

He darted through the front door of the estate and dived unhindered into the gas cloud that had extended to the walls of the estate. He threw a quick look around until he spotted Fenris among the people who lay motionless on the ground, or were violently coughing or, rather, gagging and even throwing up. He grabbed the unconscious elf under the armpits, dragged him inside and slammed the door shut behind them. To be completely safe he sealed the door with a lock ward. He let out a relieved breath. Danarius’s pet was in his grasp and in a far easier way than he had thought it would take. He only had to get him to a secure place where he wouldn’t be found. But the elf didn’t weight that much, especially without his armour, and he had time enough.

-

Aveline’s head was in a turmoil; all kinds of thoughts flew through her mind. _Now she’s lost it completely. This means war. What the hell did she do to Cullen?_ _Where is Donnic?!_ But it all boiled down to just one goal: to stop Meredith from carrying out this ludicrous action. The moment she stormed down the Viscount’s Way with her Guardsmen behind her back, so many things happened simultaneously she could hardly comprehend it.

-

After they had entered Hightown, Donnic had decided to bring up the rear-guard and had sent Guardswoman Brennan to the front instead. He had figured the excited residents in the Hightown market would likely become obtrusive, while on the other hand the bride and groom and their friends would be protected by the awaiting Guard of Honour and the Guardsmen who had stayed with the Captain. At this moment his presence was more required here. In the meantime he ordered the Guardsmen Aveline had posted in the market place to follow him; they weren’t needed there any longer. They could better serve as his assistances to keep the curious following mass at bay.

Things seemed to go well, right up to the moment everyone came to a sudden halt and he heard the voice of the Knight Commander screech hysterically over the murmur of the onlookers. Immediately after something exploded and started to spread some kind of sickly yellow gas that Donnic, to his dread, recognised as deathcloud. Instinctively he jumped back and shouted to the guardsmen, who marched behind him, to do the same. He couldn’t avoid breathing in some of the putrid smelling gas, though, and for a couple of minutes he and the few dozen guardsmen who had just joined him, and thus hadn’t been in the middle of the blast, weren’t able to do anything more than cough and try to wipe the stinging tears out of their eyes. Nevertheless, they succeeded to get a grip on their bodies and common sense rather fast. If only because Donnic willed them to.

-

Aveline strode with long determined paces towards the Knight Commander, together with the Guardsmen who had gathered behind her in tight formation.

The woman stood alone, her sword in hand, and watched how the complement of her Templars hastened to haul the by her declared traitors before her feet. Their faces were covered in special prepared cloth against the effects of the deathcloud. Someone shouted something about protecting the Champion but she didn’t take notice.

She might stand alone in the midst of the turmoil, but she stood as a statue of an extremely vengeful goddess of war: tall and frightening and untouchable. Nevertheless Aveline boldly (or driven by some particular kind of brave righteousness that would take its heavy toll afterwards) approached her.

‘Meredith! Stop this madness!’ the Guard Captain boomed. ‘Call back your men and put down your weapon!’ _I’m going to arrest the Knight Commander,_ she thought, _I must be out of my bloody mind._

To her dismay she noticed at the same moment the Guard of Honour throwing off their cloaks and producing swords and shields. _What the hell are they up to? For the Maker’s sake, they can only do harm!_

‘Stay, you fools!!’ she roared, to no avail. At the command of Philippe de Beaumont the hirelings hesitated not a moment and went after the Templars. Beaumont and Theodore of Wildervale, who had appeared at his side, pushed their way to the Knight Commander through the fleeing screaming throng of nobles and servants who tried to find safety in an eruption of panic. It was as if they were attempting to fight against a stampede.

-

Meredith turned sharply around and swung her sword in a wide arch. The blade radiated with a malicious red light that seemed to reflect in her dangerously glowing eyes. Without thinking Aveline parried the strike, almost hypnotised. Her own sword broke in two as if it was made from inferior wood.

‘Who do you think you are to command _me_!’ the Knight Commander howled. She looked as if she was in trance. Or possessed. ‘You are as much a traitor as those two! You will pay for this!’ She heaved her sword and let it come down in a mighty sweep. Aveline staggered back, still feebly holding up the remains of her weapon as some kind of sorry defence, knowing it was useless. She could feel the terror of her men behind her; they didn’t know what to do. _If only Donnic were here. Please don’t let him been put out of action due to that damn gas.... I bloody love him. Dammit._

-

Marlein Selbrech feverishly struggled against the frantic scurrying crowd that fled to all directions, only with the highest effort keeping her footing. _Damn those high heeled shoes._ She tried to reach for her garter but got pushed around and almost got knocked over a few times. Someone stepped on the hem of her dress and tore the skirt. For a moment she seemed to lose her equilibrium but just in time grabbed someone’s shoulder before she fell. The person yelled frantically at her. She paid him no heed and instead pushed him out of the way. She pulled at the fabric of her garment ant ripped the skirt apart. Finally she could reach the small crossbow tucked between the garter and her thigh and wriggled it free. The ingenious little, but powerful weapon looked like a new-born offspring of Varric’s Bianca and contained only one small smooth and very sharp bolt, but it should be enough. She was a good shot. She aimed at Meredith and fired. Immediately after she finally got dragged down. She covered her head with her arms, let the terrified horde come over her and prayed her action had the outcome she had intended. And that she would survive this ordeal.

-

The very moment Aveline expected to feel the devastating blow of Meredith’s sword, the Knight Commander let out a high pitched scream and the blade fell powerless down, missing her by inches. Her astounded gaze travelled from the fierce, frightening red glowing weapon, now dulled again and harmlessly dangling in Meredith’s hand, to the crossbow bolt sticking out of her upper arm, just below her shoulder. It had gone straight through her armour. Where the hell did that come from? _Later, not now._ She snatched the sword out of the hand of the Guardsman standing next to her.

‘Run to Seneschal Bran and tell him to open the doors to the Keep,’ she snarled.

The man seemed to be in shock. ‘But he should open them only the moment the bride and groom arrive ...’ he burbled.

‘Now!’ Aveline hollered over the racket that surrounded them. ‘Come to your senses, you idiot! We need to get the casualties inside as soon as possible!’ _And have an easy accessible retreat when push comes to shove._

Under her fiery glance the man darted off. Bran seemed to come to life at the arrival of the confused Guardsman. Finally he could do something, instead of gaping wordlessly at the ghastly panorama. Without a comment he ran up the stairs and drew the doors to the Keep wide open. He vanished into the wide hall and took refuge into the former Viscount’s office. No one missed him.

The Guard Captain straightened her shoulders and pointed her stolen blade at the Knight Commander. ‘I arrest you on the accusation of –‘  She hesitated only a moment, ‘starting a riot and disturbing the peace in this city.’ She had wanted to say “for being a complete and utter dangerous lunatic” but wasn’t certain that was a legitimate reason to take someone into custody.

Meredith stared at her with utmost contempt and a lopsided sneering smile. ‘Do you really believe you carry that kind of authority?’ she hissed disdainfully. ‘I think not. _I_ rule this city. You are just a meaningless pathetic puppet.’

Aveline swallowed. How long was it since this nightmare started? It seemed hours. It could have been only minutes.

And then she heard the foreboding heavy ringing noise, drowning the sounds of panic and battle.  _Bloody hell._

-

The gas of the deathcloud grenade had begun to evaporate and revealed a group of people, some lying motionless, some bent double or holding on to the walls of the Amell estate, coughing and retching. And Templars ferociously fighting off the unleashed Guard of Honour that attacked them. They had been well paid to do the job and, besides that, had got berserk and longed for blood. And for an even more alcohol than they had downed already, once this was all over. They might not be Templar or Guard material, but they were chosen for a good reason: they fought like devils. But although the Templars were outnumbered four to one, they stood fast. They might be less in numbers but were far better equipped and trained. They clustered together around the still body of Albran Hawke, willing to defend their prize at all cost.

-

Donnic didn’t know exactly what was going on. He had heard the frenzied voice of the Knight Commander but not what she had said. But evidently it had caused all the ruckus, including that blighted grenade, and he simply knew his wife would want him to end this appalling event as fast as possible. The lifting fog allowed him to overlook the situation. As always he stayed calm and took a quick decision. ‘Attack the Templars. Cut them out. Try not to kill them, take them prisoner.’ 

-

Knight Lieutenant Mettin had in vain fervently tried a few times to bash in the door to the Amell estate to provide for an escape route; the sturdy wood didn’t budge an inch. He grew impatient. ‘Finish them already!’ he shouted angrily. ‘This is taking far too long!’ And to crown it all, a new danger presented itself in the shape of a group of Guardsmen who apparently weren’t affected by the gas. At least not enough to not start an assault. They were approaching fast.

But then there rang a clinking sound that was as music to his ears.

-

Aveline had been staring at Meredith warily. Formally she had arrested her but the woman obviously didn’t take it to heart. She just ignored the charges. With the transmuting of her weapon, and not to forget her eyes, into something reddish and definitely very creepy still clear in mind, the Guard Captain for the first time in her life hadn’t known how to proceed. From the corner of her view she had noticed two noblemen moving towards them while they supported between them a limping woman dressed in what seemed to be rags.

And then she had heard the sound of jogging Templars, drawing near fast. A small splinter of her mind had hoped it would be Cullen, appearing as some kind of rescue-angel to call the completely gone mad Knight Commander to order.

But the moment Meredith shifted her blade, without any outward effort, from her injured arm to her left hand with a smug, malevolent grin on her face, that little hope evaporated like a snowflake in the fires of hell.

From three sides battalions of Templars closed in, and fast. Aveline comprehended the acute danger; they would be wiped away here and now, if they were stupid enough to battle them. Now she could clearly see Donnic and his men, fighting against the complement of Templars next to the Amell estate.

‘Donnic!’ she bellowed over the din. ‘Get the injured and your men into safety! Go to the Keep! Now!!’

She was relieved to see he had heard her and followed her order.

Meredith smiled demonically. ‘Finally found out, little grey mouse? You are nothing. Nothing! I told you before, _I_ rule this city.’

Aveline didn’t listen to her. She addressed the two noblemen who had caught up with them. ‘Call your Guard of Honour back,’ she bit, ‘unless you want them to perish.’

-

Varric hadn’t done vomiting by far but between two bouts he managed to grumble hoarsely, ‘What the fuck was that all about?’

Aveline was pacing her office in the Barracks where they were all gathered. ‘I think that is quite obvious.’ She scowled, at no-one in particular but at the world in general. ‘The deranged bitch made her move. I don’t know how she will defend the ridiculous charges against Hawke and Fenris but, with such an overwhelming display of power, I’m afraid she will get away with it.’

‘I don’t want to be a spoilsport but if Fenris were here he would have said something like “I told you so”,’ Varric managed just before he threw up again in the bucket between his knees.

Aveline rammed her fist into the wall in frustration. ‘I know, all right!! I’ve relied too heavily upon Cullen, no need to rub it into my face!’ She let out a big sigh. ‘And now we need to find a way to free them. Maker! What a mess.’

The woman in the tattered dress who had been introduced to her as Ser Marlein Selbrech, and evidently had saved her life by shooting a crossbow bolt through Meredith’s arm just before the woman got the chance to decapitate her, put in a word. ‘I’m afraid we have no other choice than to decide on an attack on the Gallows, Captain Ser. The Knight Commander won’t yield to mere power of persuasion. That much is clear.’

Marlein Selbrech was still sorry and, moreover, frustrated that her bolt hadn’t killed the Knight Commander but merely had injured her. But there was nothing she could do about it right now. So she stayed calm. No need to heat up the already boiling mood any further.

Aveline shuddered at the memory of the red coloured sword and the evil it had exuded. ‘I’m afraid you are right,’ she mumbled. She looked up. ‘So we have to have some kind of battle plan. Any ideas?’

At that moment Marius, known to them as Herric of Cumberland, entered the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ... anyway, thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally Cullen sees the truth...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 18

-

All heads turned to the handsome young man they knew as Herric from Cumberland, standing in the doorway. That is to say, the heads that weren’t busy emptying their stomachs.

‘What are you doing here?’ Aveline snapped impatiently. ‘And how did you get in?’

‘I came looking for Brother Sebastian,’ Marius answered timidly with a soft voice, his eyes wide with distress and hardly concealed tears. ‘There was so much turmoil ... I wanted to see if he and the rest of you were alright. A friendly Guardswoman let me through. I am sorry if I’m a nuisance.’ He seemed to be on the brink of breaking into a solid outburst of grief.

Aveline backed down somewhat and waved vaguely at a corner of the room where Sebastian lay hunched up as a classic example of pure misery. ‘Not too well, as you can see, but you needn’t concern yourself too much. He’ll recover.’

The former prince had flung himself upon Hawke in an attempt to protect her at the moment Fenris pushed her behind his back and thus had, just like the bride and groom, got the full blast of the gas.

Aveline mentally shook herself. The next words she spoke took effort and she didn’t know why. It bothered her, for a breath.

‘Now, if you’ll be so good as to leave the room? You can wait outside if you like but we have pressing matters to discuss.’ For a heartbeat she considered to have Herric thrown out of the Keep altogether, but something about the boy let her swallow back that order. Somehow her brain seemed to form the thoughts out of itself. ‘ _The poor sod. Lost everything already, finally found a new friend and now this. No wonder he’s disconcerted.’_ She frowned irritably and cast the thoughts aside; now was not the moment to be compassionate. But she forgot about it when Herric obediently scurried out of the room.

When he left, Donnic entered. Aveline looked at him with a mix of fear and hope. ‘And?’

‘Considering the circumstances, things could have been much worse,’ her husband and right hand replied. ‘We have half a dozen wounded, one of them in a bad shape, and lots of vomiting men. But they will survive.’ He turned to the three nobles. ‘I’m afraid your men fared less well. At least five of them fell in the fight and about ten are badly injured.’

Marlein Selbrech sighed. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’

‘What were you thinking anyway,’ Aveline suddenly flew at her, ‘to order a horde of untrained men to attack a group of extremely skilled Templars?!’ Now the shock of what had happened had subsided a little, anger took over, if only to find a - relatively - easy way to explode.

Beaumont wanted to flare up but thought the better of it when he met the Guard Captain’s dark scowl. He swallowed down a nasty reply and just said, ‘They weren’t untrained, just enormously – enthusiastic.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Aveline thundered, coming to the point that aggravated her the most at this moment, if not to say she was highly offended. ‘Why was I being left out of this ludicrous plan? Why were the nobles of this city plotting together without at least confer about it with me?!’

‘More or less my words, when I found out,’ Varric coughed.

‘Shut up dwarf!’ Aveline snarled.

Theodore of Wildervale stepped forward. ‘We have been planning with the Champion and Fenris,’ he tried to explain. ‘Messere Hawke didn’t want you to worry, since you already had enough on your shoulders as it was, and were involved in a row with Meredith. She was afraid you would suffer for it if she’d find out.’

‘Really? I’m moved to tears with her concern,’ Aveline sneered sarcastically.

Donnic moved to his wife and lightly touched her wrist. ‘Perhaps it’s better that we speak about the current situation, Captain,’ he said calmly.

Aveline blew out some air. ‘You are right,’ she said, backing down somewhat. ‘It’s no use bickering over milk already spilled.’ She bit back a more harsh retort. Donnic always succeeded in calming her down when she was driven to the edge. Perhaps that was the reason why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. She needed him as some kind of counterpoint. Or, perhaps, as some kind of green, calming meadow full of happy twittering birds, lovely butterflies, bright flowers and  the soothing scents of nature. Whatever the case, he managed the impossible. _Taming the bronto_ , she thought reluctantly, in a very rare reflection of humour. In the midst of all the stress she suddenly had a hard time to keep a straight face.

She grumbled, ‘And you can drop the formal “Captain” business as long as we’re among friends.’ She sent the three nobles a false look. ‘More or less.’ The same nobles were wise enough to stay quiet.

She stared pensively at the opposite wall. ‘I don’t believe Meredith was out for open battle. If so, we wouldn’t be standing here. For some reason or another she left us an open way to retreat. As some kind of escape, as if she wanted to be her great victory really – victorious...’ Her voice trailed off, thinking of Hawke and Fenris. She had no idea what Meredith had in store for them, but it couldn’t be pleasant. Then she let her eyes wander over Varric, Sebastian, Isabela and Merrill who were in different stages of recuperating but absolutely not standing. She tried not to grin.

‘The standing as a matter of speaking,’ she added. ‘Meredith just wanted to take Hawke and Fenris captive but we don’t know whether she succeeded. But I’m afraid this is only her first step.’ She paused for a moment, trying to order her own thoughts and make sense of them. ‘I don’t know if any of you noticed, but there was something extremely unsavoury about that sword of hers.’

Varric looked up. ‘I hope _you_ noticed most of us were in no position to notice anything at all.’

She shot him an incensed glare. ‘I _said_ , shut up.’ She looked questioningly at Marlein Selbrech. ‘You must have seen how the metal glowed in some kind of sinister red. Let me tell you, her eyes were the same. It freaked me out.’

‘Glowing red? Like in red lyrium?’ Varric gurgled before he had to dive into the bucket once more. He might not have taken the full blast as Sebastian had done, but he was just an inch more than half his height so the impact had been much bigger. It was a sheer wonder he was able to follow the conversation and put in a word himself. Then again, he _was_ Varric.

Aveline’s eyebrows shot into her hair. The story about the expedition into the Deep Roads sprang into mind by the mentioning of red lyrium. ‘You don’t think ... that idol ..? No, that’s idiotic.’

The dwarf’s face reappeared. ‘As idiotic as my brother became after touching the blasted thing? As idiotic as Meredith has been behaving? It might not be the idol; I, however, am willing to wager upon Bianca’s virginity it’s red lyrium. And can someone finally fetch me a decent ale, for the Ancestors’ sake?!’

-

Cullen could hear the agitated and worked up commotion from the returning Templars all the way from the other side of the Gallows, with the Knight Commander screaming above all the tumult. He frowned alarmed. He was in the Circle’s library, together with Orsino, and they shared a worried look. This didn’t sound as a merry company returning from a wedding festivity. Something had transpired and it couldn’t be good.

‘I would go and see what that is all about, if I were you,’ the First Enchanter said cautiously.

Cullen nodded, and dreaded the worst as he hastened as fast as he could to the hall where the upheaval came from. For a moment he halted at the top of the flight of steps leading to the hall, taking in what was happening. Almost immediately he saw the body of Albran Hawke, lying seemingly lifeless on the floor as if she was dropped there at the Knight Commander’s feet like a sack of potatoes. He convinced himself she couldn’t be dead. He didn’t know what the Knight Commander was up to, but he knew she bore a too large grudge to let the Champion die just like that. She would want to let her suffer, to humble her. His heart sank. Not only for Albran Hawke but he shivered when he thought about the consequences. The Guard Captain would definitely not agree with this and neither would a large part of Kirkwall’s inhabitants. And it wouldn’t surprise him the Mage Underground would rise to the occasion to try some kind of attack or mage rebellion; Anders still hadn’t been found. And where was Fenris? The answer to that question reached him at the same moment.

‘I want to know where that rotten elf is and I want him here before my very eyes within the hour!’ Meredith screeched furiously. ‘How could you let him escape!’

Knight Lieutenant Mettin stood to attention in front of her, his helmet tucked under his arm. ‘Forgive me, my Commander, but the elf had already disappeared when we arrived. He must have fled into the Amell estate but I didn’t manage to open the door in the fray.’

With his back straight as a broom Cullen descended the stairs and strode to Meredith, his heart almost bursting out of his chest with fear, but his head held high. Absentmindedly he saw a crossbow bolt sticking out of her upper right arm but apparently she didn’t take notice, or wasn’t aware of it, or at least wasn’t hindered by it. In that same absentminded way it bothered him highly. Apparently she was so sky-high, or drugged in some way, she didn’t notice pain anymore. It frightened him beyond measure but obdurately he soldiered on.

The men made way for him, the majority looking anxious and even hopeful at his appearance; some of them, however, were barely able to stifle a devious grin. He recognised every face.

‘Knight Commander!’ he called out. ‘What in the name of the Maker have you done?! You have plunged this city into a civil war! Do you think the people will approve with your reckless action? You must release the Champion immediately, before this gets even more out of hand!’

Viciously she turned to him. ‘See, Cullen, this is why I didn’t want you around,’ she said with a feral growl. ‘You question my orders and decisions far too often and far too bold of late.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You are not a loyal follower of the true path and not a dedicated believer in the only faith.’ The narrowed eyes seemed to flare red for a moment and Cullen had a hard time not to flinch or take a step back. ‘I cannot trust you any longer and therefore I relieve you from your position and reduce you to a common Templar.’ Her snarl had nothing human. ‘Ser Mettin! You will assume the rank of Knight Captain. You’re first task will be to search the Amell estate and round up that elf. Take another deathcloud grenade, if you think that will be necessary, but bear in mind I want him alive. And you, Cullen, get out of my sight. Be grateful I won’t imprison you. Or worse. For now.’ 

Cullen stood transfixed for a few precious heartbeats, not knowing how to react. Was this the reward for his everlasting loyalty? For him defending her against all the rumours and accusations? Then he turned and numbly walked away, knowing that protesting would only make things worse. Would probably end with him being banished out of the order or with his death. He went straight to his private room, the airy and quiet comfortable room, reserved for the one who held the rank of Knight Captain; he’d better start packing. He wanted to have his stuff out before Mettin would return and rightfully claim the space as his own. He wished to avoid that humiliation.

While he was going through his meagre possessions, he heard a rumour at the door and when he looked up he saw Thrask standing in the opening. ‘Did you come here to scold me?’ he said, tired of it all. ‘Or to laugh at my gullibility?’

There was a soft gleam in the other man’s eyes that put him somehow at ease. ‘Neither. Although I warned you that something like this would happen and you wouldn’t listen,’ Thrask said gently and without any spite or glee in his voice. ‘Loyalty is a great virtue but it can turn into blind obedience, and then it becomes a curse.’

‘I did not follow her orders uncritically,’ Cullen objected, feeling wretched. _He is right. There was so much more I could have done. I was just scared._ He hesitated _. About my position? No. I can clearly state it was about the safety of this city ._ He smiled grimly _. How I have succeeded._

‘No. But you refused to see the signs on the wall and now the fat is in the fire.’

Cullen worried his lip, not paying heed to Thrask’s colourful predicates. ‘Were you present, did you see what happened? Did she really use a deathcloud grenade?’

‘She did,’ Thrask affirmed solemnly, ‘and that was not the only disturbing thing.’ He briefed him as concisely as possible.

‘So,’ Cullen hesitantly said when Thrask had finished, ‘perhaps it is wise to address the Guard Captain. Try to establish some kind of cooperation. To avoid a full disaster.’

‘We could do that,’ Thrask reacted tentatively, ‘although I’m not convinced we already reached that full disaster. But maybe there is another solution. I’d like you to meet someone. Please try to keep a broad mind.’

-

When Fenris woke up, a heavy pain shot through his head, making him cringe. His body ached as if it had been kicked several times over or had been dragged over bumpy, jagged cobblestones. He tried to open his eyes that even now stung because of the foul gas that Templar had thrown at them. It didn’t matter anyhow, because he couldn’t see anything; it was pitch dark. He still felt nauseated but thankfully could suppress the urge to vomit.

Where was he? And even more importantly, where was Albran? What the hell happened?

He was lying on a rough floor but when he made an effort to get up, he found out he was tied up. He tried to call out Albran’s name but he couldn’t make a sound. And then he sensed something far more alarming.

Blood magic.

Not only his shackles were corrupted with it, but he could perceive a vile spell scourging his body, one he knew all too well. It was the one Danarius used to inflict upon him when he wanted to punish him or sometimes just when he was in a terrible mood and tried to work off his bad temper by using him as a handy victim. Horrible memories rushed back and he started to panic when the vivid visions started to overwhelm him. The pain was too real. He made some desperate attempts to break free but couldn’t move a muscle. Of course not. How could he hope to break free from his fetters now, when it had been impossible in the past.

_Danarius ... is he here? How is that possible_? He tried hard to concentrate and to fight back the terror _. No. He would never risk abducting me in the middle of Kirkwall with so many Templars present. Stop rambling._

And then it got through to him.

_Herric. Venhedis! I was right all along about the bastard. That’s the reason my markings reacted to him. But why? And why now?_

Whether he liked to or not, his frantic musings circled back to Danarius. There had to be a connection between that cursed Herric and his former master. Why else would he put so much effort and risk in taking him captive? Or was he just another blood mage that wanted to take advantage of his lyrium markings? _And what has happened to Albran?_ Was she safe? What had the Knight Commander to do with all this? She had uttered those ridiculous accusations. Was she also affected? And what about their friends?

He recognized he was going frantic and tried to calm down. As long as he was bound to these enchanted chains and that awful spell, there was nothing more he could do than to wait for the things that were about to come.

It was very hard.

-

Marius hurried back to the Wounded Coast to the spot where he knew the Tevinter spy would be waiting for him. His little trip to the Keep and the overwhelming display of grief hadn’t been in vain. He knew by now how many Guardsmen there were. He had counted them while he was freely wandering around the barracks. With the approval of the Guard Captain no less. No one had waylaid him. The fools. And by now he also knew exactly how many Templars and mages the Tevinters would encounter when they’d launch their attack.

And he had his prize in save custody. Danarius would pay him handsomely and, even more importantly, would make him his apprentice. The future was looking bright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Fenris... I hate to make him suffer... 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penny drops and Anders finally sees what his apprentice is on about. More or less. He's not happy. Especially not with Justice, by the way.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 19

-

After his brief encounter with the Tevinter spy, Marius rushed to the cave where he knew Anders had spent the night.

The healer was waiting impatiently. He had been wound up since the moment he had spotted that strange suspect ship, concealed between the sharp rocks rising above the surf. Where did she come from? What was she doing there? For a moment he had feared the vessel was a Qunari dreadnought. After all, the by Hawke defeated Arishok had threatened with his last breath they would return. But he had abandoned the thought at that same moment. The ship didn’t look like a dreadnought at all, nor like any other war galleon. But that still left the question why she was anchored in the bay, instead of docked in the harbour. It was obvious the ship was in hiding and that couldn’t be a good sign. And for some reason he had the irksome feeling Marius had something to do with it. He knew it was an irrational feeling but that didn’t do anything if adding to his anxiety.

Somehow things added up.

The sudden missing of his beloved pendant that had hung around his neck for years, the seemingly at random appearing and disappearing of his apprentice, the vague stories he told, the elusive excuses for his long absences, the feeling Marius constantly managed to allay the wariness that inevitably crept in his thoughts and built up before the boy arrived in whatever spot he was hiding. And did, as if by magic, emerge gradually again after he had left once more. As if he had suppressed them somehow while he was around. The way he kept him out of his plans; the way he himself wasn’t able to express his doubts and phrase his questions in his presence. And now this ship. _As if by magic_... the sentence kept swirling in his mind.

So, when Marius finally turned up at the end of the day, Anders heatedly grabbed his arm and dragged him to the edge of the cliff, pointing at the offending ship that was hardly visible in the light of the setting sun and somehow embodied the essence of his unrest. ‘What is the meaning of that?’ he growled. He knew he acted unreasonably but that only fed his irritation.

Marius staggered back, cursing under his breath. Damn the Tevinter arrogance. He had told them to be cautious, to bide their time, to wait just a few days more. But no, they showed up as if they already owned the place. _Fucking idiots. They can spoil my delicate movements as yet._

Out loud he said with a quivering voice, consistently playing the part of the innocent apprentice, ‘I ... I don’t know. Why do you think I should? Perhaps she’s waiting there since the docks are closed because of the festivities?’ He tried to apply a wave of mind magic. It had been a tiresome day, what with capturing Danarius’s pet slave and putting him under enough influence to nullify his wretched lyrium markings for a long time. Time he desperately needed to create, or rather, enlarge the chaos required for the grand scheme. Together with lulling an entire Keep full of Guardsmen being on their utmost alert, it had cost him an awful amount of energy. But he couldn’t take the risk of Anders getting suspicious, not now his plans were about to fall into place. He still needed him to lead the Mage Underground Movement into battle. To his satisfaction he saw the healer’s face settle into a calm expression which meant he got under his influence once again.

And then, at long last, Justice sounded the alarm. ‘ _Be careful. He is using mind magic again,_ ’ he remarked drily.

At first Anders nearly choked with disbelief, but he managed heroically to get a hold on himself at almost the same moment. He tried very hard not to flinch or cry out loud. Or even to widen his eyes. _As if by magic_ ... Bloody mind magic no less! No wonder he had been so compliant. No wonder he had ... Dammit!

This declared a lot, if not everything.

‘Again? You say _again_?! And you couldn’t deign yourself to warn me before?!!’ he roared back silently.  The muscles in his face hurt by the effort to restrain them and to force them to act like he looked impassive. He simply could feel Justice shrugging his ethereal shoulders.

‘ _I thought you knew._ ’

Anders almost exploded. ‘Evidently I _didn’t_ know, you cursed moron! Or do you think I behaved like a total repulsive jackass out of my own will?!’

‘ _No need to get offensive.’_

Inwardly Anders took a deep breath and tried to calm down. ‘Just ward him off, will you. Protect me against him. That is, if you are able to, you useless piece of shit,’ he added in sarcastic fury.

_‘If that is what you want.’_

‘Yes, that is what I want! Of course that’s what I want! Or do you think I like it to be pulled and moved around like some puppet on a string?!’ _What to do? What the hell am I supposed to do!_

_‘Just act normal,’_ Justice advised him.

‘Easy for you to say.’ What was normal under the circumstances? Did he have to look sheepish to be trustworthy in Marius’s eyes? Blank? Retarded? His first impulse was to expose the filthy squirt on the spot, but on second thought it could be more worthwhile to play along for the time being and find out what he was up to.

‘ _And he is too powerful for you to handle on your own,_ ’ Justice rumbled. Of course. It couldn’t get any better. It at least explained why he hadn’t noticed his apprentice’s foul actions.

‘Let’s forget about the ship,’ Marius said in the meantime, breathlessly. ‘There are much more important things at hand.’ He paused a few seconds before he blurted out, his expression a classic example of distress, ‘The Knight Commander has taken Hawke and Fenris prisoner.’

Anders stared at him in shock, completely at a loss. No need to pretend this time, no need to hide his emotions. Several thoughts ran through his head. And how much have you arranged? What have you to gain by this? What is your goal? _Who are you?_

-

‘Don’t tell me you really did! By the ashes of Andraste, I can’t believe it! How could you!’

‘Listen Cullen,’ Thrask pressed urgently, ‘this is no time to act more holy than the Divine. And keep your voice down.’

‘Yes yes, I know but ...’

However much Thrask might be right, his confession about his cooperation with the Circle mages, the Mage Underground and especially Anders, _Anders_ of all people, went against everything he held in esteem.

They were ambling along the Gallows Courtyard, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It was the day after the disturbing events and the atmosphere in the Gallows was unbearable, since Fenris still hadn’t been found. Meredith had become frenzied, that is, even more frenzied than she had been already, and yelled at everyone as if possessed which indeed was the case, Cullen knew pretty sure by now. Her bouts of hysteria had been hard to behold and even harder to endure. She had even ordered to storm the Keep because she was convinced Fenris was hiding in there. Luckily she had withdrawn that ridiculous order not much later; even she, in her current state of mind, had seen it had been similar to a death warrant. It hadn’t done anything to lessen her raving and ranting, rather the opposite. It had been a relief to flee the place, if only for an hour. The gates to the Gallows were locked; the mages weren’t allowed to go outside and even the merchants were ordered out, so the place was deserted but for a few Templars who just like they were seeking some peace and quiet.

Cullen knew the city was buzzing like a beehive with rumours and speculations and he wondered with anxiety when the lid would boil over. The courtyard wasn’t exactly a safe haven and the Templars who were wandering around looked as tense as a bowstring, but at least here they weren’t plagued by a Knight Commander who was seething with rage and consumed with insanity. He had the feeling he finally could breathe freely again.

He understood the Amell estate had been as good as destroyed, very much in the same brutal way as the Templars had ruined Anders’s clinic. He didn’t doubt the mansion Fenris had lived in was turned into a even greater dilapidated wreckage than it already had been. But no matter how much the Templars had worked off their frustration, they had been forced to return without the elf. Inwardly Cullen had grinned with grim satisfaction. Fenris was around somewhere and sooner or later Meredith would find out the dire consequences. But for the moment another pressing issue occupied his mind.

‘You insist on seeing Anders and the mage rebels, but give me one good reason why we shouldn’t go talk with the Guard Captain first,’ Cullen said obstinately, unwilling to let go of that idea. ‘I think that will be much more fruitful.’

‘I never said we couldn’t talk with her,’ Thrask replied. ‘I’m just trying to make you see my point of view. If I succeed in persuading you that we have no other choice than to combine forces with the mages, _you_ on your turn can persuade _her_. And if we want to bring Meredith down, we will need the mages. Aveline will listen to you, Cullen. I know she values you highly.’

Cullen snorted derisively. ‘I hope that still counts after what happened. I failed dramatically. I judged the situation totally wrong.’

‘You did what you thought would be best. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’ Thrask sighed. ‘And about speaking with the Guard Captain, I want to sent a message to the Keep anyway, if only to check if Fenris is really there.’

They had reached the colonnade next to the now abandoned merchant stands and halted. Cullen leant against one of the pillars, looking pensively into the distance. ‘I don’t think he is. I’m fairly certain he would have made his move by now. By marching into the Gallows, freeing his wife and killing Meredith, to be precisely,’ he added wryly.

Thrask let out a short barking, rather nervous sounding laugh. ‘You’re probably right. So, what do you think happened to him and where he can be? He could be a great help.’

Cullen hung his head and stared at his feet. ‘I have no idea. I can hardly believe he escaped the effects of the deathcloud. Perhaps someone else has taken him into safety.’

He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet the elf’s wrath. He remembered all too well Fenris’s display of hardly confined fury and strength when he had glowed up in the Amell estate, let alone his display of near deadly anger when he had knocked down Meredith the moment she had tried to take Hawke into custody. He feared the elf would hold him responsible for the fact things had gone completely out of hand. He still liked his heart where it was: pounding healthily in his chest.

Thrask looked doubtful. ‘Unless Anders has found a way to remain invisible and worked up the courage to venture into the city to watch the wedding procession, I can’t think of anyone who could have come to his rescue. All their friends were with them. And speaking of friends, those two weren’t very close, to put it mildly. I understand they were fierce enemies, even before Anders’s repulsive deed. I know that much. So why would he have come to his rescue? He would sooner have tried to save Albran Hawke.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps his apprentice Marius has brought him into safety. If so, we should search for him, or again for Anders, because he would know about his location, if that were true.’

Cullen looked up. He had made his decision. ‘That, however, doesn’t explain why Meredith is still alive.’ He grimaced mirthlessly. ‘Alright. I agree to meet with Anders and his Mage Underground. Have you thought about a way to sneak out of the Gallows without alarming the guards? We can’t just walk through the closed gates. And how are we going to find him?’

A small smile emerged on Thrask’s face. ‘I know a secret route. And Marius has promised to place discreet marks to lead me to their last place of refuge. Just in case. Trust me, we will find him.’

-

Anders was hurrying down the Wounded Coast. Marius had told him he would call together the Mage Underground Movement to a gathering in one of their spots in the sewers, and had asked him to be present this evening. To speak to them, to encourage them, to reveal their plans. Whatever those plans might be. Something like that. He only had listened to his enthusiastically rambling apprentice with half an ear, eager for him to vanish. Even with Justice keeping the devastating and enthralling mind magic at bay, he could still feel its sickening influence and it was hard to think clear. By now he marvelled at how Marius had been able to so easily manipulate him and made him do and act like he had wanted him to. That he hadn’t seen through his purpose, not even had been aware something was out of place. He was a mage himself, godsdamned, how could he not have noticed? How could he have been so gullible? Even if the Tevinter mage was really as powerful as Justice claimed he was. And again he grew angry with the spirit.

‘I suppose it is too much to ask if you know what that worm is up to?’ he said sarcastically, marching frantically through the sand the trail consisted of, leaving clouds of dust in his wake. ‘After all, you didn’t bother to protect me from his evil before. Thanks again for that, by the way.’ He had been pondering that issue the moment Justice had warned him – a bit too late. What did Marius have to gain? Why would he have wanted him to – violate Albran? He couldn’t have foreseen Fenris would turn up to take care of her, what had led to that blasted marriage. Could he? And even so, why would that be important to him?

‘ _He wanted to make certain you would be vulnerable,’_ Justice answered, _‘so he could dominate you and you would reply to his wishes. And honestly, you didn’t protest when he made you force yourself on that woman.’_

Anders, not for the first time this day, flew into a rage. ‘That would never have happened if you had informed me in time! Have you any idea of the severe consequences my behaviour has caused? And I’m not talking about what it eventually led to. I’m talking about the scars rape leave on a woman’s soul. It is by far the lowest of all crimes, even lower than murder, and you just let it happen.’ He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to remember what had happened that fateful night but couldn’t get away from it. It made him even more angry. ‘You could have prevented it but you chose not to. That is unforgivable. And don’t call her “that woman”. She is a person, she has a name.’

Justice remained silent for a while. _‘Forgive me, I didn’t know. About the consequences, I mean. I may have shared your body and mind for quite a while by now, but I still have trouble understanding human feelings. I didn’t understand that having intercourse could lead to so much mental pain and trepidation.’_

Anders flinched at the term “intercourse” and huffed scornfully. But then again, Justice indeed didn’t know much about how the human mind operated, even after all these years. He backed down somewhat. ‘That doesn’t explain why you kept silent about that fucking mind magic.’

‘ _Like I said before, I was convinced you knew. And the man seemed to be serious about freeing all mages. I believed it was a good cause.’_

‘Oh, and that glossed over everything? You deemed it an excuse to hurt someone that badly?!’ And then, after a brief pause, ‘The _man_? What do you mean by that? Marius is just a boy.’

_‘He is twenty six, so, to your human standard, not a boy at all,’_ Justice replied carelessly, _‘and I thought you cared for the mages plight.’_

‘He is what?!’ A lot of incoherent thoughts took over his mind. It didn’t ’help to sort his sanity. He gave in.

‘– Oh hell, it doesn’t matter anyway. It only gives more proof of what a lying bastard he is.’

 After his short confusion Anders picked up where he had left the row. ‘Of course I do believe in the cause! But that doesn’t give me carte blanche to sacrifice everything I hold dear! Let alone I would –‘

He abruptly fell silent. The light of the sun reflected on polished steel and revealed two Templars heading in his direction. He started to panic but in time recognized Thrask and – he blinked, Knight Captain Cullen?? He halted abruptly.

‘Anders!’ Thrask called out. ‘A good thing we find you here! We were searching for you. I thought you would be in hiding.’

‘I was,’ Anders retorted grumpily, looking wearily at Cullen, ‘but right now I’m going to my clinic. To look into some grimoires in order to find out how to fight someone who is applying mind magic. That is, if I can find them in the rubble.’

Thrask looked puzzled and Anders sighed deeply. ‘I will explain everything on the way, and you, in return, can tell me why you are here and dragged the Knight Captain with you.’

‘You can forego that title,’ Cullen reacted flatly.

Now it was Anders’s turn to look puzzled but Thrask took his elbow and started to lead him to the city. ‘Like you said, let’s update each other on the way.’

It became a very enlightening conversation.

-

Anders stiffened when he passed the threshold of his smashed clinic. His breath went laboured and he got the feeling his skin crawled back over his bones. His heart started to hammer in his chest. ‘There’s ... something ... evil in here,’ he finally uttered with great difficulty. ‘Blood magic,’ he panted, ‘very strong blood magic.’ _Marius. It must be Marius. What has he done?!_

The two Templars looked uneasily at each other. ‘I can feel – something,’ Cullen said hesitantly, ‘something disturbing. It could be blood magic. But how is that possible?’ He looked around. ‘There’s no one here, let alone some blood mage performing their despicable art. And everything seems to be in order. I mean, besides the damage of course,’ he hastened to add.

Anders didn’t listen. He didn’t even hear him. He rushed to the far wall and started pushing at one of the wooden panels. The one wooden panel that had been miraculously saved from the malicious treatment of the Templars’ mallets; but it was slightly dislocated and because of that the clever spring device he had designed didn’t work. So he had to push and drag until the boards gave way and revealed the secret hiding place he had made for the occasion Templars would barge into the place and he wouldn’t have time to run into the safety of the cellars of the Amell estate.

He staggered back under the sheer force of the foul magic that came streaming out as a waft of rancid odour. He stared wide-eyed at the shackled person lying motionless on the floor. The elf seemed to be unconscious; he looked deadly pale in the dim light and a sheen of sweat covered his face.

Anders could hardly believe his own eyes. ‘Fenris!’ he cried out, completely taken aback.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Anders finds Fenris ... and he's in for a surprise. They both are, as a matter of fact.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And fimally the penny drops and Anders understands. It will not be pretty. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Chapter 20

-

Anders knelt beside Fenris and, despite his bewilderment and concern, laid a steady hand on the artery in his throat. The healer-part kicked in. Or rather, he willed it to kick in. To his relief the elf was indeed only unconscious and not dead. Although Fenris’s breathing was shallow and his heartbeat hardly existed, he nevertheless lived. The evil power of the blood magic pulled at Anders, making him feel weak, but he tried hard to fight it. The healer turned to the Templars who stood in shock behind him and worriedly were observing the scene.

‘Don’t just stand there!’ he barked. ‘Help me to get him onto a cot!’

Cullen was the first to move. Without much visible effort he lifted the elf, who was still dressed in his by now dirty and creased wedding suit, and carried him to the only remaining makeshift bed in the clinic that wasn’t smashed to pieces or turned over. He lowered him gently down. ‘What the hell happened to him? Who did this?’

Anders had followed him and now put his hands upon the shackles around Fenris’s wrists. The blood magic the metal radiated almost physically burned him but he had to hold on, if he wanted to free the elf. He gritted his teeth. ‘It’s the most compelling blood magic I ever encountered and I know damn well who did this, however not to what purpose,’ he said grimly. He closed his eyes. ‘This will cost a lot of energy. I suppose neither of you have a lyrium potion about your person?’

Cullen cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. ‘Uhm, as a matter of fact I have. Several of them.’

‘And where did you get those?’ Thrask asked irritably. ‘Don’t tell me you abused the authority of your position as Knight Captain to put illegally your hands upon the locked lyrium stock!’

Cullen straightened his shoulders indignantly. ‘I carry them around in case one of our brothers is in desperate need of lyrium but already has consumed the quota he is allowed,’ he said defensively. ‘And yes, that’s illegal but you know how it gets when ...’

Anders snapped his eyes open again. ‘Can you two stop bickering and postpone this discussion until a more appropriate moment?’ he interfered angrily. ‘More important things are at stake right now than your petty quarrels. Give me those vials.’

It took him more than an hour to neutralize the binding magic; it was very difficult to concentrate with the probing whispers of demons in the background of his mind, but finally he could open the shackles and toss them aside. By that time he was worn out but his work wasn’t done by far. He had to find a way to wake Fenris up.

In the meantime the two Templars grew more and more impatient. ‘Can’t you do this any faster?’ Cullen pressed. ‘We have precious little time.’ He and Thrask were eyeing nervously and distrustfully the mage’s ministrations. Probably they expected any moment a swarm of demons to materialize and attack.

‘Certainly,’ Anders growled sarcastically; the sweat was dripping down his face and his fingers were trembling with exhaustion. ‘I can always turn to blood magic myself, instead of fight against it.’

Alarmed Cullen grabbed his arm. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

Anders rolled his eyes. ‘Of course not, you daft idiot! Besides the fact it would only make things worse, I wouldn’t like the place to be suddenly overrun with demons. This is tiresome enough as it is without having to battle foul creatures as well.’

It was a pity he was too tired and too anxious to really enjoy calling a Templar a daft idiot in his face and boss him around without having to fear any repercussions.

‘Now step out of my way.’ He let his hands hover over Fenris’s markings. He was hoping he could find a way to activate them because he was convinced that would be an adequate method to fight off the blood magic, but nothing happened.

‘You could at least try to assist me,’ he muttered to Justice, ‘instead of letting me toil and sweat on my own.’

‘ _What?_ ’ the Spirit reacted appalled. ‘ _Help a mage hater?!_ ’

‘Will you stop being so childishly stubborn! For a Spirit of Justice you can be rather narrow-minded and intolerant if not bigoted, you know. Give me a hand here; we will need the elf’s strength, whether you like it or not.’

Justice grumpily murmured something unintelligible under his non-existent breath but nevertheless came into action. He took the lead and indifferently led Anders’s movements, though with a hint of annoyance. He seemed to push on certain areas in the elf’s body. Or better _inside_ his body, as if he was unravelling knots or lightening pressure points. Anders could almost literally feel the applied blood magic dissolve. He felt immensely grateful when the last jerk of evil evaporated and the demons’ urgent whispers disappeared back into the Fade.

Alas he hadn’t counted on Fenris’s ferocious reaction in case of success.

In a sudden flash all Fenris’s markings came to life. Before anyone could do something, he flew up and clutched Anders’s collar with a steel grip; he almost choked him.

‘Albran,’ he croaked, ‘where is she, you, you -’

With a painful groan he fell back on the cot, panting heavily, but he still managed to hold on like a vice to the robe of the mage who hadn’t expected this and was desperately fighting for air. Worse even, the elf’s fingers moved with a lighting fast movement to his throat and started to suffocate him. White spots fountained behind Anders’s eyelids and he imagined he could hear his windpipe crush; his fingers vainly clawed at the ones strangling his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

‘What a way to go,’ he thought for a bizarrely lucid moment.

-

Hawke shifted uneasily on the hard bench that was the only furniture in the prison the Templars had thrown her in. Regretfully she took in the remains of her wedding dress in the feeble light two sputtering torches cast.

‘You were such a pretty thing,’ she whispered, ‘and look at you now, all torn and stained.’ She felt utterly miserable and couldn’t help thinking the whole mess was all but her fault. She felt battered and bruised and still a bit woozy and the chilly, humid and gloomy atmosphere didn’t help much to cheer her up. Her eyes stung and she tried to convince herself it was due to the aftermath of that damned gas and not because of the tears she struggled to hold back.

When she finally had been capable of doing something more useful than heaving and retching, she had examined her cell but the hope she could find a way out of it soon had evaporated. The room was hewn out of solid rock, the bars were made out of hard steel and the lock was sturdy and unpickable, assuming she could find something to pick it with. Which she couldn’t. There was no window; the only light came from the two torches on the opposite wall of the small corridor. She tried very hard to suppress the desolation that threatened to overwhelm her.

_Oh Fenris, you must hate me now. You just wanted to make me your wife out of deep and honest love and I insisted on making a tomfoolery out of it. To taunt the snobs. And look where it brought us. What an arrogant idiot I have been._

The accusations Meredith had stood screaming still rang in her ears. _Irrefutable proof my ass._ _Undoubtedly she has forged some lousy evidence to snare us; I wouldn’t put it past her._ But how many people would be eager to believe it was all genuine, whatever it was she would come up with? Albran hid her face in her hands and tried not to despair.

The Knight Commander hadn’t shown herself yet since she had woken up in this cell, sick as a dog and with a splitting headache. She hadn’t come to her prison to gloat upon and yell at her. And Hawke knew why. Somewhere through the throbbing pain in her head and between the bouts of vomiting, she had, even down here, heard fragments of the commotion that had gone on for hours in the Gallows courtyard, Meredith’s voice screeching on top of it. Andraste’s tits, but what a horrible shrieking voice that bitch had. Not much later a Templar had brought her some water. A friendly member of the order; apparently they existed.

‘I’m so sorry, Champion,’ the woman had said ruefully, ‘I didn’t know this was going to happen. I’m afraid the Knight Commander has gone out of her head.’

‘That’s one way to put it,’ Hawke had mumbled. ‘What the hell is going on up there?’

And so she learned it was all about her elf who apparently had escaped Meredith’s clutches. At first she felt optimistic. It had to be a good thing, yes? But then she started to get doubtful. There was no way Fenris had been able to avoid that cloud of gas. Could he have had help? But from whom? And if so, where could he be? Was he in the position to come to rescue her? She didn’t dare hope. And what about their friends? Hadn’t they been taking prisoner? And Aveline? Her thoughts began swirling in her head, making her feel dizzy. She slummed back against the cold damp wall and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do right now but to wait for what would happen. And perhaps, yes perhaps, an opportunity would present itself to make a run for it.

-

Aveline had kicked the Seneschal out of the former Viscount’s office.

‘You’re no Viscount,’ Bran had objected.

‘And neither are you,’ Aveline had snarled. ‘But someone has to take the reins and it is obvious you aren’t that person. So make yourself scarce.’

She had confiscated the whole Keep; the barracks were flooding over, now the militia had joined the guardsmen, and they needed all the space they could get. She had even gone as far as collecting the keys in the Seneschal’s office to open the Viscount’s throne room that had been sealed off after the unsavoury occurrences with the Qunari. Bran had been livid but hadn’t had the courage to utter a protest under her fiery, vicious gaze. He had stuck with glowering but the Guard Captain hadn’t been impressed. She had been far better at glowering anyway. She seemed to be a champion at it. Unwillingly Bran had backed down.

Sebastian had gone back to the Chantry. ‘I have to speak with her Grace,’ he had stated, ‘I know for sure she can do something.’

Aveline, in the meantime having mastered the art of glowering and scoring high points, had looked him up and down as if he was retarded or perhaps brainwashed. To be honest, she was almost certain that last fact was true.

‘Yes,’ she had retorted sardonically, ‘she has demonstrated by now how much influence she has on Meredith.’ She snorted, ‘she and her so much praised wisdom! That so called wisdom is but a euphemism for being too cowardly to intervene! She hasn’t lifted a finger to keep that woman’s madness in check; just as with the mess with the Qunari she just let it all happen. At that time she didn’t even had the heart or courage or insight to rein in that dangerous bitch Petrice, although Hawke had warned her about her ungodly actions. And we all know where that led to. Like back then, she also now has only given evidence of her weakness and indecision. Dumar and she would have made a perfect match.’

She nearly had to take a breath after her scolding.

‘How dare you say such a thing!’ Sebastian had burst out.

But Aveline had beaten him to it. Even more vicious this time.

‘Because it is the truth but you can’t handle the truth, what with your pathetic blind worship of that spineless woman!’ she had spat back. ‘You’re nothing but a pitiable feeble puppy, aren’t you, seeking guidance by the first person who deigns themself to pat you on the back! And your Grand Cleric is extremely good at patting where she should be dealing out kicks and blows and a good whack around the ears!’

After that they had been shouting at the top of their lungs at each other until Donnic had put an end to it. Sebastian had stomped off, bristling with holy indignity and Aveline had been sulking for hours, looking as if she would explode at just one wrong word. Donnic deemed it wiser not to point out that, yes, they were all on edge at the moment, but that it, nonetheless, would be better not to take it out on one another. She would know that anyway and saying it out loud would only worsen her mood.

-

Varric, Isabela and Merrill had stayed in the Keep. Although the dwarf groused sullenly he had been reduced from Merchant Prince and King of the Storytellers to Pitiable Refugee, all three of them acknowledged the danger of going out in the open. Meredith might have let them untouched for the moment, but she could change her mind just like that and decide to arrest them after all. Only Isabela had sneaked around Kirkwall under cover of the night to fetch their weapons and armour because they were all still dressed in their wedding outfit. She returned with the shocking story of the destruction of both the Amell estate and Fenris’s mansion.

The three of them were sitting together in a relatively quiet corner in the Viscount’s throne room. They had dragged a few chairs out of the hallway and somehow Varric had conjured up a bottle of rare Orlesian cognac for the pirate queen and himself and a flagon of light cider for Merrill. Around them members of the militia milled about, being at a loose end and, frankly, just waiting for orders. Many of them had put down bedrolls here and there in the room and were playing dice or cards. Nobody disturbed the beardless dwarf, the tanned extravagant human woman and the timed Dalish elf.

‘What a low act of pathetic revenge!’ Varric cried out in genuine anger. ‘Wasn’t it enough she ruined their wedding day and humiliated them before the eyes of half of Kirkwall?!’

There hung a strange atmosphere in the Keep. The guardsmen were angry and determined to get even with the Templars who had made them take to their heels. The staff were scared and jumpy and didn’t know what to with the rough hirelings, who on their turn approached their stay at the Keep as some kind of paid holiday. The furious outburst of the Guard Captain hadn’t aid much to lessen the tension. For that reason Isabela hadn’t told her yet about the senseless devastation of both properties.

‘There must be something we can do,’ Merrill piped up, sounding a little forlorn. ‘Aveline will think of a plan, won’t she? She is good at plans.’

It almost broke Varric’s heart to see the hopeful glint in her big glistening eyes. He took a large swig of the cognac and felt the liquid satisfactory burn down his gullet. ‘Close to storming the Gallows, I fear there’s nothing much we _can_ do,’ he said. He cocked his head. ‘Although, I can always bang on the gates, pronounce myself a herald of the Divine and demand the release of Hawke and Fenris out of the name of her Holiness.’

‘That could work!’ the Dalish elf exclaimed enthusiastically. She clapped her hands with delight. ‘Meredith won’t expect that!’

‘I bet she wouldn’t, Kitten,’ Isabela smirked, snatching the bottle out of the dwarf’s hands. ‘I admit it’s a brilliant idea to make that tart kill herself with laughter. That is, it would be if she’d had a sense of humour in the first place.’

‘Oh, that would make a wonderful story!’

‘Yes Daisy,’ Varric said gloomily, ‘therefore it’s a shame I wouldn’t be the one to tell it. Being dead and serving as a banquet for the fish by then.’

‘Oh.’ Merrill deflated. ‘It wasn’t a real plan.’

Varric put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘I’m sure something will come up. I promise you we will save them.’ _And I don’t care who is listening down there or up there or wherever you hang out, just rest assured I’m going to rattle your sorry stony or heavenly bones if that promise doesn’t come true._

-

It had taken Cullen and Thrask several precious minutes to pry Fenris’s fingers off of Anders’s throat and save the mage’s life. And after that they had to hang on with all their might onto both the elf’s arms to prevent him from breaking free and murdering the healer as yet. He might seem lithe and lean, when taunted he turned out to be as strong as an ox.

‘Calm down Fenris!’ Cullen grunted. ‘Anders was just trying to help you.’

For some strange reason the mentioning of the mage’s name seemed to quieten the elf down and abruptly he stopped wrestling.

Anders stood bent double, leaning against the wall, and was coughing ostentatiously, trying to catch his breath.

‘ _He is definitely very thankful,_ ’ Justice remarked drily. Anders fluttered his hand, wheezing pitifully. Maker, what a strength the elf harboured in that slender lanky body of his.

Slowly Fenris sat up, waving off the Templars who only reluctantly let go of him. ‘I apologise,’ he addressed Anders, sounding hoarse.

With some difficulty Anders stood up, rubbing his ill-treated throat. ‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he mumbled. ‘Although, next time I prefer you just punch me in the gut,’ he added derisively. Even mumbling was painful.

‘No. I mean, I mistook you for someone else; I thought you were Herric.’

They didn’t get the chance to ask who the hell he was talking about, because the very next moment his features twitched with a sudden wince of immense pain and with a gasp he collapsed on the cot. His hands clenched into fists, his body convulsed and then stilled. A small stream of blood started trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

With rising panic Anders hobbled near. ‘Oh no you don’t. You’re not going to die after I rescued you and you almost killed _me_.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Anders finds Fenris. It will be quite a revelation.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> .


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders may rescue Fenris, but the elf's reaction is far from grateful ... at first.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 21

-

‘What is wrong with him?’ Cullen asked upset. Not moments ago he and Thrask had had all kinds of trouble keeping Fenris from throttling Anders, and now all life seemed to have drained from him.

Anders stood stooped over the motionless elf, his hands rested lightly on his chest. ‘Internal bleeding,’ the mage replied curtly; his throat hurt like hell thanks to Fenris’s action and he had difficulties with speaking. Nevertheless he added, ‘The artery in his lung has burst and now the organ is filling up with blood. Fast.’ He desperately tried to call upon his healing capability but it seeped only in feeble driblets through his hands, by far not enough to adequately stop the blood gushing from the vein. He cursed frustrated. ‘Do something,’ he hissed to Justice.

‘ _There is nothing I can do,_ ’ the spirit replied. ‘Y _ou are the healer, not me_.’

‘Sounds bad,’ Thrask mumbled.

Anders didn’t deign to answer him and the Templar, conscious about his own silly remark, scurried away and started wandering about the ruined clinic, searching for something that might be useful.

In a way he held himself responsible for the situation. Things had gone desperately out of hand. What had started as a promising enterprise to put Meredith out of charge, had turned into a nightmare about an at first trustworthy apprentice who had the audacity to abduct the Champion’s husband and perform blood magic and apparently a strong kind of mind magic even the Templars hadn’t heard of – i.e. the Templars in Kirkwall –, a disturbing display of the Knight Commander’s madness and the total unsettling of a whole city-state. This was not what he had had in mind when he tentatively set up the secret organisation to bring Templars and mages together. By now, he understood he had judged the situation as badly as Cullen had done, be it they had both accomplished to approach the situation wrongly from completely different sides. The outcome however, how ironically, had been the same. Destructive.

With a huff of irritation he entered Anders’s bedroom. For a moment he marvelled at the harsh circumstances the healer had lived in. In the times of Andraste, or rather in the eyes of the ones who had penned down her astonishing life, he would have been considered some kind of a saint. Of course also this part of his – how to call it, alright, his home at the lack of a better word, was shattered but Thrask saw the signs of a man devotedly dedicating his life to only one purpose. And it was a purpose Thrask could sympathise with: to free the mages from the unjust suppression they had to endure. He corrected himself immediately. No. That was not true. Yes, Anders was renowned to him as the leader of the Mage rebellions. But he also, and perhaps in the first place, was a dutiful healer who strived to aid the poor and helpless in a harsh and careless city, a healer who prevailed the well being of the vulnerable people above his own, let be he’d care about any comfort. Therefore he had been shocked beyond compare when he found out he had raped Albran Hawke. It had been a disgusting act and so totally out of character. But now he had got the picture. Mind magic. How could he blame Anders any longer? Even he had fallen for it, had trusted that greasy snake that called himself Marius.

Standing in the middle of the cramped space that had been Anders’s personal room he found the evidence of his dedication in attempting to relieve the struggles of the poor. The room contained not much more than the remains of a small bed that looked like a real backbreaker, a still more or less whole rickety table with a washing basin on top, cracked but otherwise miraculously still unscathed, a simple desk made out of cheap wood and a stool. There had been shelves nailed to the wall but they had been torn down. Books and papers were scattered all over the place but in a corner he found a casket filled with flasks, vials and jars that were still mostly intact. They could come in handy. He took the crate with him and returned to the main room of the clinic.

‘How is this possible?’ he heard Cullen ask. ‘The one moment he seems more alive than a raging bull and the next he is dying!’

Anders coughed, probably trying to clear his tormented throat. ‘Burst arteries tend to do that to people.’

‘Yes, but why –‘

‘Would you please shut up and let me concentrate!’ the healer snapped irritated.

Thrask walked over to him and wordlessly offered him the small crate. Anders looked up in surprise. ‘Where did you find that? – Never mind.’ He rummaged through the contents of the casket and produced several lyrium potions and a healing one. He first gratefully downed the blue tonic to replenish the dried out supply in his veins. ‘Lift his head,’ he next ordered Cullen. The former Knight Captain did his bidding without even thinking. He was by now beyond questioning anything at all. He simply held Fenris’s head while Anders carefully and slowly poured the liquid between the elf’s lips. After that he wrapped him in the returned blue power of his healing magic, putting everything he had into his effort. He was glad to see Fenris’s markings responded, even if it was only faintly. Finally the elf let out a sigh. The following moment he turned sharply and threw up a surge of blood. Cullen reacted just in time and steadied him to prevent he fell off the cot.

‘I’m sorry,’ Anders said tired, ‘I don’t know why this happened. It could be some aftermath of the effect of the blood magic, or some evil trick in case somebody else would lift the spell. I’m not much of an expert when it comes to the dark arts.’

Fenris just squinted at him and silently accepted the canteen with water Thrask offered him. His body felt as if it was torn apart from the inside out and he couldn’t suppress a soft groan when he sat up and swayed his legs over the side of the cot.

Anders eyed him worriedly. The ordeal the elf had gone through must have been excruciating and he could only hope there wouldn’t be any other severe effects or collateral damage. ‘How have you been able to endure this?!’ He uncorked another bottle with a healing potion and handed it over.

‘I’ve had worse,’ Fenris rasped.

‘I doubt that.’

The elf gave him a small mocking smile while he took the potion. ‘You better believe it. But I don’t want to dwell on my tribulations. Where is Albran?’

The three men looked uncomfortable. ‘In the Gallows,’ Cullen answered cautiously, on his guard in case Fenris would explode once more.

But Fenris stayed calm this time, his face an unreadable stone mask. ‘I feared that much,’ he said, ‘and what about Herric?’

Anders shook his head. ‘You mentioned that name before, but I don’t know such person.’

The elf laughed mirthlessly. ‘On the contrary, I am certain you do. But I suppose you know him by another name.’

And then it dawned on Anders. ‘Marius!’

Thrask blanched. This blasted situation became even worse than it already was.

Fenris knocked back the healing potion. ‘Now tell me what transpired.’

-

Orsino nervously tapped the surface of his desk while he was flipping through the pages of a weighty tome. He felt highly agitated and impatiently tossed the book on the floor after he didn’t find what he was looking for, and reached for another one on the pile next to him. He couldn’t believe it had come to this; the Champion in prison, her husband being chased like a dangerous criminal, the Knight Captain degraded and the Knight Commander completely running amok. He didn’t think one second Hawke and Fenris were traitors and a nasty suspicion had come up about who was to blame for this mess – besides himself. He should have sent the lad Marius as a neat parcel by return of post back to Tevinter. He shouldn’t have sent that cursed letter in the first place. He might have known nothing good could come from letting the Imperium meddle with their affairs.

But what could he possibly do to set things right again? Because he hadn’t been able to think of anything constructive – at least not something that would turn Meredith into an even bigger dangerous madwoman and put the mages’ lives at stake – he had gathered an amount of books about the Tevinter Imperium and the kinds of magic the Magisters wielded, magic forbidden in the rest of Thedas. He had been searching feverishly for ages to find anything useful. It didn’t help he didn’t know what he was looking for in the first place. Several times the image of Marius came swirling in his mind. The lad had made him feel prickly from the start, although he still couldn’t fathom why exactly. Whatever was wrong with him, he managed to hide it well. What kind of magic did he apply? _What was that wretched boy planning?_

-

Aveline had removed the heavy desk from the Viscount’s office and replaced it with a wooden table. She had called everyone together, that is everyone of import, and looked sternly around at the serious faces. Varric, Isabela and Merrill were present, as well as Marlein Selbrech, Theodore of Wildervale and Philippe de Beaumont. And of course Donnic was sitting on her right hand with on his other side Guard Woman Brennan. Sebastian was absent, probably still fuming about what Aveline had said about the Grand Cleric, and to be honest the Guard Captain didn’t miss his presence. She didn’t exactly dislike the Chantry brother, although he regularly got on her nerves, but the last thing she needed right now, was a dispute about religion and the (non)actions of Elthina adding to all the real problems they had to face.

‘Alright, I’ll first report you on the current situation,’ Aveline started. ‘I’m sorry to tell that here and there fights have broken out throughout Lowtown and the Docks. It is not clear if it’s about some kind of rebellion or simply an outburst of the tension that holds this city in its grip. A patrol of Guardsmen, however, were just in time to prevent a group of elves crossing the harbour to attack the Gallows. Apparently they consider Fenris and also Hawke as their heroes and they are furious.’

‘They’re not the only ones,’ Varric mumbled resentfully, ‘but obviously the only ones with the guts to take action.’

‘Yes,’ Aveline snarled, ‘a hot-headed suicide action.’ She shot him a fiery glance before she continued. ‘Luckily the Templars haven’t shown themselves in the city up until now to enlarge the friction. I had half feared they were intended to attack the Keep, considering the  unstable state of mind Meredith is in.’

‘Unstable state of mind?’ Varric sneered. ‘I’ve seen trampling ogres and frenzied dragons that were a picture of serenity in comparison to that rampaging example of insanity!’

The Guard Captain raised her voice. ‘If you won’t stop interrupting me, Varric Tethras, I will not hesitate to gag you, or worse!’

The dwarf grumbled something indecipherable though undoubtedly insulting, but kept his voice down.

After another venomous stare in his direction, Aveline said, ‘Unfortunately it has become clear several noble houses have started to recruit militia. I’m not sure whether out of security or that other more belligerent motives play their part.’ She looked questioning, if not accusingly, at Lady Selbrech.

The noblewoman stayed unperturbed, at least outwardly. That is to say, her eyes only flickered slightly under the Guard Captain’s glare. ‘I know that some of them are supporting us openly after all that’s happened, while others are on the Knight Commander’s side. Most of them are just scared and want to protect themselves,’ she answered as informative and neutral as possible to not ignite the Guard Captain even more.

‘As I see it,’ Aveline said, ‘before we can even hatch a plan to free Hawke and Fenris, we have to cope with an Alienage full of angry elves, large parts of the city with pockets of rioting culprits, and Hightown filling with hirelings willing to fight for money. With other words: we are heading for complete chaos, if not civil war. And when Meredith decides to make her next move, and it won’t matter what kind of bloody move, even if it is just lifting her little finger, the mayhem will be complete. I do not doubt for one second that half of the city won’t be eager to obey her and is happily going to battle the other half that is. And how is the Guard supposed, between all that threatening aggression, to keep Kirkwall from plunging into complete anarchy?!’

At that very moment the door to the room opened. Aveline was about to shout irritably they were not to be disturbed, when a rough and yet sonorous voice rumbled, ‘The only solution is to act as fast as possible, free Albran and put Meredith down.’

Her eyes flew open in astonishment and for a moment she wasn’t able to utter a word.

‘Well well, look what the cat dragged in,’ Varric grinned broadly. ‘You are harder to get rid off than Isabela can lose her notorious rashes.’

‘Hey!’ the pirate cried out indignantly.

Fenris smiled crookedly. ‘Good to see you too, Varric. Complimentary as always, I hear.’ Before he could say anything else, he got cut short by Merrill who had jumped up and flung her thin arms around him.

‘I’m so glad you are safe, Fenris,’ she cheeped, ‘I was so worried! But everything is going to be all right now. I just know it.’

Carefully he freed himself from her firm embrace. ‘Thank you Merrill,’ he said, confused and at the same time more moved than he wanted to admit. ‘But if you don’t mind, I would like to sit down.’ He still felt weak after what he had gone through but knew it wouldn’t be long till the lyrium in his markings would have been restored, after which he soon would be his old self.

Intensely Isabela looked him up and down. She took in his ragged appearance and the state his once marvellous suit was in at this moment, stained and crinkled and half torn. And bloodied. ‘You look like shit,’ she concluded, ‘what the hell ever happened to you?’

‘And another flattering comment,’ Fenris said sardonically while he took a seat. ‘I feel totally at home.’

‘Will you two cut the crap,’ Aveline spat impatiently, ‘and let Fenris explain how he managed to get away from the Gallows.’ She frowned and added somewhat gentler, ‘Is there something you need, Fenris? I agree you indeed look like you’ve been dug up from the grave.’

Fenris leant into the back of his chair. ‘A stiff drink maybe. And if someone else feels obliged to make a retribution to my appearance, do it now before I regain my strength. You are warned.’

Brennan hastened to get him a cognac – the Viscount had owned a very well stocked liquor cabinet and the Seneschal never had discovered the key.

After he had taken a sip Fenris carried on, ‘I never made it to the Gallows. I’m not certain how he did it, but in the midst of that foul cloud of gas, Herric somehow managed to haul me into the Amell estate and from there to Anders’s clinic.’

‘So he saved you!’ Merrill joyously cried out.

‘I simply knew he would play his significant part,’ Varric smirked, ‘there was something about that ... boy ...’

He came to a halt under Fenris’s dark ferocious glare that smothered his enthusiasm.

‘A very significant part indeed, although he didn’t rescue me. Anders did.’ He ignored the shocked gasps. ‘After he found me in what, apparently, was his hide-out place where I was locked up and bound by strong blood magic.’ He let fall a short silence before he continued, ‘Lest you haven’t figured it out for yourselves by now, your precious Herric is a filthy and very powerful blood mage from Tevinter.’

He was met with a stunned silence and several pairs of bewildered eyes.

-

The old Holding Caves were bustling with activity once more, although not with slaves and slavers. This time Tevinter armed forces were garrisoned in the abandoned caverns. They had left the cramped ships and in the early morning rowed ashore where they had landed on a remote spot of the Wounded Coast. The caves were a perfect place to hide an army, especially at this time, now no one in Kirkwall would pay attention to whatever took place in Sundermount with everything that was occurring between the city walls.

Danarius stood before the entrance, taking in the scenery. He had confiscated one of the rooms and had made himself at home, or rather had had his slaves done the job. While the soldiers had scouted the caves, they had stumbled upon several human skeletons that still bore the shattered remnants of gear that once had belonged to Tevinter slavers. Danarius didn’t doubt it was all that remained from the army Hadriana had taken with her, three years previous. She had been convinced back then she would succeed without any problems; it had led, however, to her death. It was time to remedy that mistake.

 _He_ would not fail.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for Fenris's ongoing predicament...  
> I loved writing angry Aveline. Besides that, I think she's right. Elthina proved to be weak at every turn and no match to Meredith at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

After Fenris had explained what Marius had done to him and how he had held also Anders in his grip by applying a rare but extremely powerful type of mind magic, it took some time before anyone was able to react; everybody was simply at a loss for words.

To his dismay Varric belonged also to the throng of dumb, flabbergasted people, only able to look astonished. Again. _And yes, not for the first time lately_ , he thought sourly, _it’s becoming a severe disease. And, of course, I shouldn’t even think it, but praise the Ancestors I never got the opportunity for my speech. My lousy speech. Ugh._

Aveline was riding an emotional rollercoaster but finally managed, her voice thick and strained, ‘How do you know Herric is from Tevinter?’

Fenris didn’t look at her or anyone else when he curtly replied, ‘Because I recognized the specific kind of blood magic he used.’ Those present contemplated this for some moments but they were reluctant to ask how the elf obtained that knowledge. It was quite obvious anyway; his rigid expression and the sudden hard glint in his eyes spoke volumes. And besides that, he had dropped enough hints about his sordid past for them to understand how much he had suffered under the cruel hands of his former master. ‘And he isn’t called Herric but Marius; that is to say if _that_ is his real name. But it sounds Tevene enough to assume it is.’ He frowned and made an irritated grumbling sound. ‘Then again, I don’t care how he names himself. It’s not important. He is a treacherous viper, that’s what counts.’

Merrill looked up, nervously fidgeting with her slender fingers. ‘I can’t believe Herric, er, Marius has done this to you,’ she said diffidently, ‘he seemed such a sweet boy.’

‘Oh yes, an adorable little angel,’ Fenris scoffed, ‘coddled by Andraste herself.’

‘And, er, elf, care to clarify the business with Anders?’ asked Varric, who thought it was high time he went searching for something to put forward, especially now the elf uttered words he should have come up with himself. ‘Last time I looked, you were willing to rip out his intestines and strangle him with them. And on his turn Anders would have been more than happy to magically burn you on the spot. Don’t tell me you are best buddies now.’

Fenris gave him such a dark scowl the dwarf almost crumbled. ‘I don’t think my relation with or my feelings for the abomination are relevant at the moment.’

‘Ah, abomination. So that hasn’t changed,’ Varric mumbled, strangely relieved, ‘glad to hear it; the world has rotated to the crazy side enough as it is.’

Ferris’s scowl grew deeper. ‘Don’t hold my words against me, dwarf. Old habits die hard. But to put your mind at ease, I still don’t like him. I just don’t feel the urge to kill him right now.’

‘I can hardly believe you will ever going to call Anders a friend or even by his given name,’ Isabela muttered. She felt more than annoyed by Ferris’s revelation. Like Merrill had mentioned, the boy had seemed sweet. Completely harmless, disarming and, above all, very handsome and tasty. That he had fooled them all was hard to swallow.

This time Fenris kept a straight face. ‘Let’s say I now understand why he did – what he did. Mind magic can make a person do the most awful things, even against their will. Especially against their will. Anyhow, for the time being it is better to work together in order to get Albran out of the Gallows as soon as possible, than mindlessly holding on to an old feud.’

‘And what about Herr– Marius? I can’t imagine you are willing to let him walk free after what he has done.’ Aveline tried to get a grip on the situation. It had been complicated and difficult to start with and this new turn of events didn’t do anything to make it simpler. She rubbed her temples. Not for the first time in these past few weeks – months (how long was it anyway Fenris had popped that stupid question that had set all this mess into motion?), a splitting headache was lingering around the corner, waiting to jump upon her already pestered brain.

Fenris grimaced derisively. ‘No. I cannot wait for the moment I can plunge my hand into his chest and rip his depraved heart out. Do not doubt my intensions. But it would be very unwise to pounce upon him just like that; we’ll have to be extremely cautious around him. He is one of the most dangerous mages I have ever encountered. He won’t be defeated that easily, and besides that, he will be constantly on his guard.’

He looked troubled and that didn’t do much to ease the Guard Captain’s mind. She almost let slip the question whether this Marius was as mighty as Danarius but just in time thought the better of it. No need to feed the already high tension.

‘He managed without any effort to influence Anders, who isn’t a weak mage himself,’ Fenris continued, defying Isabela’s statement he would never would utter the mage’s given name, ‘and he manipulated Ser Thrask. Anders told me he even led Justice around the bush with his well-played concern for the mages’ plight. You have been able to admire his handiwork at first hand; he had not a problem at all to twist you all around his little finger.’

‘Oh, and _you_ immediately looked through him and his evil plans?’ Isabela said indignantly, still taken aback and thus aggravated.

Fenris glanced coldly at her. ‘I distrusted him at first sight, yes. Contrary to several others present.’

Aveline lifted her hand, ignoring the jibe. One of Ferris’s remarks had caught her attention. ‘Wait a minute. Ser Thrask? What has a Templar to do with a Tevinter blood mage?’ _Bloody hell, I thought the exposing of Herric would be the end of it and now this._

As briefly as he could Fenris explained how Thrask had been busy with secretly setting up a lobby group to bring mages and Templars closer together. He informed them the Knight Captain had fallen out of grace and what had happened with Anders after he disappeared. He even told about the involvement of Orsino, although he didn’t know exactly what kind of role the First Enchanter played in the whole scheme. Even Anders hadn’t had a clue about his plans, safe that they included to dispose Meredith. He and both the two Templars had been staggered to learn Orsino had been contacted by Marius and he had visited Anders at the Wounded Coast. The reactions now were even stronger; it was as if the words spoken in the relatively safe and definitely untouched room in the Keep sounded more intense and struck harder. They all sat agape, trying to let the overwhelming information get through.

When he had finished, Aveline let out a wholehearted sigh. After a few minutes she said, ‘The situation is even a bigger pile of shit than I already was aware of. Do me a favour, Brennan, and hand out glasses. I think we are all in need of a strong drink right now. And send someone to the Chantry to get Sebastian over here.’ She added with sudden malicious enjoyment, ’I bet he will be very surprised to find out what kind of sneaky piece of vermin he has taken under his holy wings.’

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment. He was stressed and worked up and tried with all his might to calm down. He sensed a light tingling feeling rippling along his skin and nestling in his muscles, evidence of the fact his markings were getting in full swing once more. And with it the feeling of paralysing tiredness and frustrating fragility dissolved. He might hate his lyrium scars, he couldn’t deny the strength and power they gave them. It was a bittersweet controversy he had been struggling with for a long time. He doubted he would ever get as far as to come with terms with it. It didn’t matter right now. Other things were more important.

 He clenched his jaw when he thought of Albran locked up in the Gallows, at the mercy of a madwoman’s whim ... _No. Leave it. Try your best to free her but keep your wits together._ He swallowed hard and snapped his eyes open again, reached for his glass and took a sip. ‘I cannot really blame any of you for falling for the charms of Marius’s mind magic,’ he said soothingly, trying to ignore the desperate tears that swelled behind his eyes, ‘I suppose it’s only due to my markings I could resist him.’ _Albran, please be strong. I will come for you. As soon as I can. I promise._

‘I bet it is more than that,’ Varric murmured but shut his mouth when he more felt than saw the elf’s piercing look.

Aveline gratefully accepted the glass filled with cognac Brennan handed over. ‘And now? I take it you have talked the whole thing through with Cullen?’

Fenris shot her a lopsided smile. ‘Cullen isn’t the one to talk with anymore. Meredith stripped him of his rank, remember. Whatever influence he had is gone. At this moment Thrask is of far more value than he is. He already is used to extraordinary and perilous situations, is used to move with care. He confronted the danger consciously by starting his personal enterprise.’ He bit his lower lip. ‘I must confess I am not quite certain it is prudent what he strives for but on the other hand ...’ He paused, trying to gather his own fluttering thoughts and at the same time to suppress his almost overwhelming feelings of despair and fright. ‘On the other hand, perhaps we cannot ignore any longer that Meredith squeezes the mages in this city till breaking point. And no one can benefit from that.’ He took another sip of his cognac. He smiled apologetically while he put his glass down. ‘She has already given prove of her complete madness. Her insanity will drag this city into the ground.’

Varric seized the moment. ‘I’m rather surprised you’re here with us and not in the Gallows, fighting everyone and everything that moves and stands in your way to rescue your woman,’ he pointed out.

Fenris cocked his brow at the dwarf, trying very hard to silence his conscience that screamed the same words. ‘A very heroic and romantic idea, Varric, and certainly fitting into your infamous stories, but this is reality. Not a product of your lively fantasy, I’m afraid. Rest assured I wished it were that simple. Alas it isn’t. It would end with my death and how appealing that may sound to certain persons, it wouldn’t solve anything.’ He felt wretched but didn’t show it.

It earned him an approving snigger from Philippe de Beaumont. ‘I knew you were a sensible person the moment I met you, all the lovely but silly romance about an elf marrying the Champion put aside. And I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you have a solution at hand to wipe away all of our problems.’

Fenris looked pensively and a little humble. ‘You grace me with your trust, Ser Philippe, and I wished I had. But I fear I have to disappoint you. We haven’t established much up till now. The only decision we made is to let Marius believe we haven’t looked through him until we find a definite and safe way to put him down. Cullen and Thrask have returned to the Gallows; they had no other choice. They put a lot at risk by leaving the place and staying away as long as they did. They, however, promised to keep an eye on Albran and to protect her as much as they can. And to have a conversation with Orsino. A serious one. We don’t know what the First Enchanter thought to gain by contacting Marius and Anders, and even less what his plans are, but we considered it wise to combine our strength. Anders has joined Marius and the Mage Underground Movement in the sewers to concoct a plan to invade the Gallows. We have to meet together to attune -’

He got interrupted by a very incensed Guard Captain.

‘Oh yes, let’s make more turmoil and turn this city into a battleground,’ Aveline groused heatedly.

Fenris turned sharply at her. His calm composure snapped. ‘And what would you suggest,’ he bit viciously, ‘leave it all be? Let Albran rot in a cell? Let Meredith have her way and take the reins and ruin Kirkwall because you are too afraid to spill a drop of blood? Too afraid to put your cherished guardsmen to the test? Too determined to keep a peace that doesn’t exist? At all costs?!’ He had jumped up despite the urging hand Varric had put on his wrist.

Likewise Aveline also had jolted out of her seat and only Donnic prevented she flew at Fenris right across the table by grabbing her arm.

‘I am _not_ Elthina!!’ she roared and fell silent immediately after, shaken by the impact of her own words. _I_ am _Elthina_ , she thought shocked, _just as she, I am too afraid to make a decision_. _To act._ _Good grief. Fucking hell. I’m turning into an undecidedly coward. I’m doing exactly the same thing I accuse her of._

Marlein Selbrech got up. ’Please,’ she said, ‘this is leading us nowhere. We have to stand together if we want to defeat the danger that is threatening us. If we’re not united, that danger will not be called Meredith but internal quarrel. And I don’t want to be remembered by such a petty thing. If I will be remembered at all, I don’t want to go into history because we destroyed ourselves due to our own disagreements.’

Aveline flopped back into her chair, as did Fenris. ‘I am sorry,’ she said hoarsely, ‘you are both right. We have to take action, no matter the consequences. We have to free Hawke and tackle Meredith before something really bad happens. Let’s try to find a way to do so.’

-

After the friendly Templar had left, Hawke had taken a few thirsty swigs of the water she had brought her and had almost spit it out again at the same moment. It tasted bitter like wormwood. She had suspiciously eyed the remains of the liquid but it looked quite innocent. She got nauseous again not long after she had drunk the tang water and emptied the meagre contents of her revolting stomach into a bucket her jailors had been kind enough to leave in her prison. But, though the thought had briefly crossed her mind, she couldn’t believe Meredith was trying to poison her. She was convinced the Knight Commander wanted to put her captured prize on display, triumphantly haul her through the streets of Kirkwall as her precious prisoner to take her revenge, not to let her die anonymously somewhere deep down in a dungeon for no one to witness.

When the Templar returned, she pushed the cup under her nose through the bars of her prison. ‘What have you put in this?’ she demanded to know. ‘And don’t try to play Miss Smartass by answering “water”.’

The woman took a step back and looked a little anxious. ‘Magebane,’ she replied reluctantly, ‘it contains magebane. By order of the Knight Commander.’

Albran stared incredulously at her. ‘It’s a pity it is already official, because this is a pretty strong indication Meredith has indeed gone completely bonkers.’ She laughed unpleasantly.  ‘You can tell her that the effect of the fucking herb on not-mages is they get sick of it. In my case literally and figuratively. What the hell makes her think I’m a mage anyway?!’

The Templar took a breath. ‘She says because you harboured and protected a blood mage –‘

‘Yes yes, I’ve heard that crap before.’ Albran waved her hand impatiently. ‘To be precisely, she shouted the ridiculous accusation into my very face a couple of weeks previous. I just couldn’t believe she actually was serious about it. To be honest, I can’t believe it right now.’

The Templar remained silent, she just looked at her with something close to regret.

Albran sighed. ‘Alright, what does she have in store for me?’

‘I am not allowed to tell you,’ the Templar said stiffly.

Hawke made a face. ‘Of course you aren’t. That doesn’t mean you cannot tell me.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘I won’t hold it against you and I will not give you away. Promise.’

The Templar looked sad. She worried her lip. ‘I don’t think you will survive this day,’ she blurted out. She turned after those words and fled.

Albran sat down on the cot and put her face into her hands. She had a hard time not to cry.

_Fenris, love, where are you?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And there he is ... the evil tormentor ...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

-

Finally, in the last tome of a large pile, Orsino came across an interesting and relevant text that explained a lot of things – disturbing things, to be frank. ‘Of course it had to be the last book,’ he murmured irritably. ‘Why must it always be the last volume you grab to find what you are searching for? There should be a law against it.’

He clenched his jaw. Mind magic. Sweet Blood of Andraste, the sneaky devil had been using the extremely risky and outside Tevinter forbidden art of mind magic! No wonder he had obtained access to the Gallows so easily. No wonder _he_ had so easily agreed with his dangerous plan to talk with Anders on the Wounded Coast. Now he understood why he had fallen for Marius, while at the same time he felt uneasy around the lad. The boy must be extremely talented if he hadn’t noticed what he was doing.

But there had to be a spell to counteract his perilous enchantment. There always was one.

He vehemently looked for clues. It didn’t help the text was handwritten in Arcanum, the old language of Tevinter. It had been a long time since he had had practice with the ancient lingo.

He was so absorbed with reading, he almost jumped out of his chair when a knock rang on his door. His heart shot into his throat. He stared fearfully at the entrance. What if it was that new Guard Captain, Mettin? Or worse, Meredith? If one of those two caught him browsing dubious books, especially at this confusing and dangerous time, the consequences could be catastrophic for the whole Tower. He could pretend he wasn’t in, but feared that would only lead to his door getting crashed.

‘Enter,’ he thus called, trying to keep the quivering of his voice to a minimum, ‘it’s open.’

The door opened to reveal Ser Thrask. Orsino puffed out a deep held breath but his relief was of short duration. Carefully the Templar closed the door behind him. He walked over to the desk, rested his hands on the surface and leant over. ‘I believe we have to talk,’ he said with a stern look in his eyes. ‘Urgently.’

Orsino blinked in surprise. He had automatically put his hand over the text he had been deciphering, though he could hardly imagine Ser Thrask would be able to read the words upside down, moreover because they were written in that ancient language. ‘About what? You don’t really think I have the influence to do something about the situation? Now Meredith has removed Cullen from her side and isn’t even willing to listen to the Grand Cleric, I highly doubt she will take anything I put forward to heart.’

Thrask smiled nastily. ‘That’s not what I want to talk about.’ He shot him a piercing look and held his eyes captivated. An involuntary shiver crept down the First Enchanter’s spine. ‘I want to talk about Marius.’

Orsino stiffened. ‘What,’ nervously he cleared his throat, ‘what do you mean?’

‘Don’t try to fool me,’ Thrask spat. ‘You know bloody well what I mean. I know you met the young man. I know you went with him to the Wounded Coast to meet Anders. And I think _you_ damn well know he is a master in the art of mind magic.’ He paused for a moment before he launched his last attack. ‘And I know he comes from Tevinter. As do you undoubtedly know as well.’ He kept the First Enchanter imprisoned in his firm stare. ‘A powerful mage from Tevinter suddenly happens to show up in Kirkwall and shortly after trouble starts,’ he said in a low threatening voice. ‘Explain.’

Orsino deflated under the weight of the other man’s gaze, although he was still reluctant to divulge his share in the drama. ‘To be honest, I discovered the mind magic part just a few minutes ago,’ he attempted innocently to buy time. ‘How did _you_ find out?’

‘Don’t try to avoid my question,’ Thrask bit menacing. ‘I want to know the truth. What the hell have you been scheming?!’

Orsino squirmed in his chair. ‘Don’t you want to sit down and have a drink?’

‘No, I don’t,’ Thrask hissed. ‘Get out with it.’

Orsino stood up and started to pace the room. He wanted very hard to find a way out but recognized there was none. He had to come out into open. ‘I, er, I sent a letter to the counsel of senators in Tevinter; in return they sent Marius,’ he confessed eventually, arming himself against Thrask’s predictable reaction.

But Thrask wasn’t able to react at all; this was so immense and incomprehensible, he at first had no answer. ‘Why?’ was all he could finally manage.

Orsino made a feeble attempt at defending his outrageous decision. ‘Just like I did, you must have seen the situation in this city was getting out of hand,’ he said, aggravated. ‘I only wanted to put a halt to Meredith’s ever more increasing madness. To save the mages. To save Kirkwall.’

Thrask sat down after all; he didn’t trust his sudden wobbly knees. ‘So you thought it would be wise to surrender the city to the Tevinters, to deliver us on a silver platter to that nation of greedy blood mages. To return their former property?!’ He had a hard time not to shout.

‘I had to do something!’ Orsino wailed. ‘Who could I trust?!’

‘You stupid idiot,’ snarled the Templar, with great difficulty keeping his voice down. ‘You should have known better; there were plenty other solutions instead of inviting those vipers!’ He rubbed his face. ‘You’re going to pay for this,’ he promised him darkly, ‘but right now you’re going with me to Cullen. Perhaps we can find a way to repair the damage you have done.’

-

Hawke got alarmed by the sound of heavy booted feet and ringing armour, announcing the arrival of at least six Templars. She had been slumbering, despite her worries and sorrows. But in the end she had become exhausted of fretting about the seemingly hopeless situation, of her concerns about Fenris’s fate and the lingering sickness that had sustained even after the friendly Templar – Marcia was her name she had learned – had brought water and food that didn’t contain that cursed magebane. She assumed it was a strong after-effect of the combination of that pungent gas and the disgusting herb. Even the mere thought of inhaling the one and imbibing the other, made her retch again several times over. And in the end she had slumped on the ascetic cot and, despite the situation but completely exhausted, had drifted off. Until this foreboding sound of aggressive marching feet woke her.

At first she pretended she still slept, but she couldn’t keep up the appearance when someone slammed hard on the bars of her prison with a gauntleted hand. ‘Wake up, you lazy whore,’ the someone growled, ‘it is time for your conviction.’

Albran made a show of getting up, rubbing her face and flexing her fingers. ‘Conviction?’ she drawled. ‘Interesting. I always thought there had to be a trial first.’ She tried very hard to keep a strong facade and not to give in to despair. Surely he was just making an attempt to frighten her?

‘Traitors don’t deserve a trial,’ the Templar barked. He had the word “bully” practically written all over him. Besides that, he wore the insignia of the grade of Knight Captain. Not a good sign. Marcia had already told her what happened with Cullen, so she wasn’t surprised to find a new Captain. She was, however, not very pleased with this substitute. He opened the entrance and cautiously approached her. ‘Stick out your hands,’ he ordered.

Hawke cocked her head. ‘And why would I do that.’ She knew she didn’t stand a chance but refused to go down without a fight.

The five other Templars drew their swords. It made quite a noise. The born bully made a gesture towards her that indicated he used his smite ability, a power fed by the blighted lyrium to numb mages  Albran just stared at him, with difficulty suppressing the urge to burst out laughing.

‘Yes,’ she observed drily, ‘I would definitely have used my overwhelming powers of stone fist, or fire ball, or whatever spell, against you, if you wouldn’t have deprived me of my non-existent magic capacities. Maker, how pathetic. You’re nothing but Meredith’s lapdog, aren’t you, not being able to think with your own brain. What a pity. Even a marbari knows better.’ For a moment the newly assigned Knight Captain was at a loss and she made advantage of that. She smirked cynically. ‘Big boy. Good dog. Now shush. Lie down and play dead.’

The very moment the new Knight Captain remembered his status. It earned her a backhanded slap across her face. She staggered but managed to stay upright.

‘Of course,’ she taunted him while blood filled her mouth, ‘turn to violence. It’s the only way you Templars can think anyhow, working brain or not.’ The next blow hurled her against the wall and before she knew it she was handcuffed. _Very clever. Happy now? Use that blather mouth of yours one more time and Meredith doesn’t even have to make an effort to kill you. You’ll be dead already._

The freshly appointed  Knight Captain pulled her roughly on her feet and pushed her out of her cell. ‘Very soon your witty remarks will be silenced forever,’ he said, threateningly.

-

Cullen was sitting on the uncomfortable bed in his new room. It was small, much smaller than the airy and relatively luxurious chamber he had occupied over the past years. But that was at this moment the least of his problems. His head was still reeling with everything that had happened. Things had gone out of hand so fast he could hardly grasp it. He sighed, got up and started to unpack the box containing his personal belongings he had placed on the rickety table.

‘Knight Captain?’ He turned sharply to catch the desolated face of the young Templar who had addressed him. He remembered him well. Keran. The young promising Templar recruit who Albran Hawke herself had rescued from the clutches of that deranged blood mage Tarohne and her accomplices, years ago. He had been watching him closely for a while but it had become obvious before long the boy hadn’t been possessed by demons. He had proved to be a very keen and devoted pupil, and recently Cullen had allowed him to take his vows and become a real Templar.

 _What now again,_ he thought distressed _, I don’t think I can cope with another disaster._

‘The title isn’t accurate any longer –‘ he started tired, but immediately got interrupted.

‘They’re bringing Messere Hawke to the courtyard, Knight Captain Ser,’ Keran panted aggravated, not taking note of Cullen’s remark. ‘I’ve heard the Knight Commander is going to put her to death.’

Cullen stiffened. _This soon? This can’t be true. She certainly wants to make a grand show out of it, preferably in the middle of Hightown._ ‘Maker preserve us,’ he mumbled. He put himself together. ‘Where is Ser Thrask?’

‘I don’t know,’ Keran cried desperately, ‘I can’t find him anywhere!’ Of course he had looked for Thrask first; after all, he belonged to his secret organisation. But he figured he could trust the Knight Captain, former Knight Captain; he was a decent man. To his relief at the same moment a known voice sounded at the entrance of the room.

‘What is the fuss all about?’ Thrask sounded fractious and looked outright infuriated if not on the brink of combusting. He had Orsino in tow who, on his turn, looked embarrassed and more than a little guilty.

Cullen let his eyes wander to Keran. ‘It seems Meredith is planning to condemn the Champion as we speak.’

‘She is going to murder her!’ the young Templar cried out in dismay. ‘Please Ser Thrask, we have to do something!’

‘Fuck it all,’ Thrask cursed harshly. ‘After everything now this.’ He turned ferociously to the First Enchanter. ‘You stay here,’ he barked. ‘Cullen, if you would be so kind as to guard him? Keran, run to the Keep as fast as you can.’ He frowned. ‘Without your Templar outfit,’ he added. ‘I fear they're apt to shoot you on sight if you show up in your uniform.’

Cullen had raised his brow. ‘What has he on his record?’ he asked, indicating Orsino.

‘I’ll explain later. Or perhaps he wants to explain himself. Try not to kill him – yet. We’ll decide later what to do with him. If you’ll excuse me now, I believe there is a woman I have to try to save.’

Orsino just looked sad.

-

After her stay in the gloomy prison cell, Hawke had to blink against the bright sunlight that blinded her when Mettin pushed her into the courtyard. She almost stumbled after a particularly vicious shove in her back but succeeded in keeping her footing. ‘No need for that,’ she hissed angrily, ‘just give me a moment to adjust my eyesight after your hospitable and generous gesture to give me one of your first-class rooms in your freak-hotel.’ She drew some satisfaction out of the man’s astonished silence. She straightened her back and held her head high to face whatever awaited her.

The first challenge was Meredith, who was standing in the middle of the courtyard as some grand queen holding court. What especially caught her attention was that she was standing next to a newly erected pole. What was the meaning of that? The woman was flanked by a regiment of her Templars, all of them looking blank like schoolboys who had encountered the significant but harsh other use of the teacher’s ruler.

To her not so pleasant surprise she then noticed a delegation of the nobility that had gathered behind the Knight Commander. On the other hand, it came as no surprise at all to recognise Guillaume de Launcet among them and she didn’t doubt the rest of them also harboured less than warm feelings for her. _Perhaps I’d better put more effort in pacifying them,_ she thought, _alas, a little late for that sensible Satinalia’s resolution now._ Mettin gripped her shoulders and made her stand still before Meredith.

‘And here you are,’ the woman growled with a feral snarl on her face. ‘Not such a big mouth right now, have you.’

‘That depends,’ Albran began, ‘whether I get the opportunity to –‘

‘Silence!’ Meredith hollered. ‘Traitors don’t have the right to speak!’

‘I think I have at least the right to hear the charges against me and to see your so-called evidence,’ Hawke stubbornly persevered. The next moment her head rang with the blow Mettin dealt her.

‘Shut up,’ he growled, ‘and heed your betters.’

She still managed to stay on her feet, be it hardly.

Meredith turned to address the nobles. ‘Evidence she wants!’ she called with her shrill voice that could shred a person’s eardrums and penetrate thick castle walls. ‘As if she doesn’t know her crime! But I have asked you all to come and witness this specific and indisputable evidence so that no-one will say I have arrested her just to take revenge on the outrageous way she and her elven spouse have treated the Knight Commander of this city!’

She paused for a couple of moments and Hawke caught the self-righteous expression of the Comte de Launcet. The man practically combusted with smug ecstasy. He seemed to be shivering with expectation. _Within a few seconds he is going either to have a heart-attack or an orgasm_ , she couldn’t help thinking. But then her attention got drawn to the two items Meredith produced with a triumphant look on her face. She turned back to her.

‘You wanted evidence?’ she sneered. ‘Then you will get it. Recognise this?’

To Albran’s dread a well-known pendant dangled between her fingers. The very Tevinter Chantry amulet she had found in the Holding Caves when they were hunting Hadriana, and she had given as a present to Anders. For a laugh, more or less. Or perhaps even as a thumbs up, come to think about it, because her sister had been a mage and would have been hunted and prosecuted in this damned city as some kind of dangerous animal and Anders was fighting against that irrational and ridiculous situation.

She realised the amulet could be a strong argument to be used against her. How the hell had that turd managed to put her hands upon it? Had Anders betrayed her after his – his awful behaviour? Did it mean he had been caught? Had the Templars succeeded in their effort to find him? Had they taken the bauble from his body, had they tortured him? Hell, it had been meant as some kind of joke; now it could well be that joke had turned to bite both of them in the ass.

Meredith gave her no time to recuperate. ‘And here is the letter that went with it,’ she yelled triumphantly. She shoved a piece of paper under her nose. ‘Your handwriting, if I’m not mistaken. I’ve seen it often enough to know it is yours. Your petition to keep the lad Keran in the Templar Order even after he had been at the mercy of demons; your signature under your marriage contract. You can’t deny this!’

Albran stared at the note with rising panic.

 

_“My dear friend,_

_It pleases me to inform you everything is going according to plan. It is good to hear our Northern allies are already on their way to help us getting rid of KCM. As good as it is to know MUM is alert and ready to strike. Soon after the wedding we can set our scheme into motion. Thank you for your gift. I shall wear it so that I can be recognized and prove I am on the right side._

_With love, AH”_

She looked up at Meredith. ‘This is not my handwriting,’ she said flatly, knowing her denial wouldn’t help her, ‘somebody has gone through a lot of effort to forge it but it is not mine.’ _And, bloody hell, I know who wrote this note. Fenris was right all along. I should have listened to him. I should have dragged that sickening fraud by his ear to the Chantry to expose his true intensions to Sebastian. And after that I should have let Aveline take him into custody. And again. A bit too late._

Meredith held the two pieces of her glorious proof high above her head to let the gathered nobles see them. As some kind of sacred relics of a since long deceased saint. As if they were the ashes of Andraste herself. They all cheered; or rather they uttered their victory by elegantly incensed calls that could hardly conceal their foul excitement.

Albran looked at them and finally she got numb. She was defeated; no way she could win this battle. At this point she didn’t know nor could think of anything to say to save her hide.

Meredith pointed at the pole that was slammed into the floor of the courtyard. ‘Only one punishment for a traitor!’ she screamed excitedly. ‘Being whipped to death!’

The chorus of excited nobles happily agreed.

Before she knew it, Hawke was hauled to the piece of wood and tethered to it. What was left of her wedding dress got ripped apart.

‘I told you your witty remarks would be silenced forever,’ the new Knight Captain grinned.

And then the first lash of the whip hit her back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has a nasty, angsty beginning. Sorry for that. Things will get better, I promise.

Chapter 24

-

She would never forget that first lash of the whip cutting through the tattered fabric of her wedding dress. It hurt like hell and took her totally by surprise. Up until the last moment she had refused to believe Meredith would really go through with this. She was convinced Knight Commander had only wanted to scare her, to make her compliant and to humble her by giving her a taste of her authority. She was so taken aback that she even forgot to cry out. The second lash made her grunt, though still under her breath. _I will not give her the pleasure of breaking down._ The third made her grind her teeth, the forth watered her eyes; the fifth forced a loud groan out of her; the sixth only made her scold Meredith for the mental lunatic she was. Meanwhile she could feel the blood trickling down and seeping into the remains of her dress, but she tried hard to ignore it. When the whip for the seventh time hit the tender skin of her back the only thing she could do was clenching her jaw and trying to keep up some dignity. But soon after, even that didn’t matter anymore. By then she knew the Knight Commander wasn’t bluffing; she would die here, in the Gallows’ courtyard. She lost count of the harsh hits. Despite her firm resolution, she eventually couldn’t stop herself from screaming out of pain and anguish, but at that point she didn’t care any longer. She screamed until her voice broke and her head started reeling and the desperate cries turned into whimpers. She tried very hard to think of Fenris, to see his face, to hear his voice. But it was near impossible to form a picture in her head or even to produce a coherent thought. She just hoped she would pass out.

And then a voice boomed through the courtyard.

‘Knight Commander! What is going on here? Why are you letting this happen?!’

Mettin, who handled the whip, and with cruel pleasure too, hesitated.

‘Ser Thrask! Who do you think you are to interrupt!’ Meredith retorted in a low graveling tone. ‘Go back inside and don’t interfere.’

But the Templar walked steadily to the centre of the vast space and stopped in front of the Knight Commander. He looked her square in the face and said calmly, ‘I thought it was your intention to expose and punish the traitors in the middle of Hightown, for all the townsfolk to witness. You haven’t even caught Fenris yet! Shouldn’t you wait till you have them both in your hands before you carry out this sentence? Your victory will be so much more glorious if you wait just a little time longer!’

He stared into the insane eyes of the woman who wielded so much power – too much for the good of Kirkwall. For a moment he thought he could see a red flicker but at the same second it extinguished. He held his breath, praying with all his might his words had been enough to persuade her to stop this idiocy, had touched the right button. He could have said the people would accuse her of outright murder but he was quite certain that would only have fanned her already deadly rage. From the corner of his eye he saw Mettin heaving the whip again to resume the flogging but at the same moment Meredith lifted her hand.

‘Stop.’

Mettin’s arm faltered.

Meredith’s eyes narrowed while she glared at Thrask. ‘I don’t know your exact intentions, Templar, but I have to admit you have a valid point.’

Inwardly Thrask let out a big sigh of relief. Outwardly he persevered in his stoic composure. He didn’t even dare to say something pacifying like “you always know what’s best”, out of fear it would disturb the brittle balance between the Champion’s life and her death.

The Knight Commander seemed to contemplate her next action. She was visibly struggling; several expressions rippled over her face as if she was having an intense inner debate, but then she came to a decision. ‘Take the Champion back to her prison,’ she ordered.

Guillaume de Launcet stepped forward. ‘No!’ he protested with force, ‘you promised me la chienne would die today!’

Meredith spun on her heels, in the same movement drawing her sword. She pointed the weapon at the Comte who, completely taken by surprise, staggered back, utterly shaken. ‘Don’t you dare to question my judgment,’ she hissed threatening, ‘or you will end up tethered to that post, feeling the whip on your skin yourself.’ And again that shimmer of uncanny and ominous red coloured glow appeared, this time gleaming along the sharp edge of her blade. The gathered nobles scuttled bewildered backwards but Thrask paid it no heed. There would be time enough to think this new shocking incident over. Now was not that time. Now he had to act fast before Meredith would change her mind yet again and he could not risk to give her that opportunity.

He pushed the newly appointed Knight Captain, who was too flabbergasted to react adequately, or to react at all, aside and cut the rope that bound Hawke to the wooden pole. He caught her when she sank weakly on her knees and carried her inside the Gallows. No one stared after him because everyone was too busy staring at one another. Mostly guardedly. Or numbly.

He hurried straight to Cullen’s new room and was met with incensed and shocked cries when he laid Hawke on her stomach on the small cot. Her back was a bloody mess but despite the pain she was still conscious, though hardly. She moaned softly.

‘Heal her,’ Thrask curtly ordered Orsino. ‘At least you’ll be good for something.’ His gaze fell upon Keran. ‘I thought I instructed you to go to the Keep,’ he said irritably. ‘What the hell are you still doing here?’

‘In hindsight I didn’t think it would be a good idea,’ Cullen replied soothingly. ‘Help would have come too late, should you have failed. It could only have tempted Fenris and his friends to do something rash and foolish that would have cost them their lives.’ He cracked a very meagre smile. ‘Besides that, we had to keep an eye on each other to prevent one of us would kill Orsino.’

‘So he told you what he has done,’ Thrask said grimly, looking at the First Enchanter who was doing his best to heal Hawke’s injuries as fast and thoroughly as possible. Orsino pretended not to hear.

‘Why don’t we smuggle the Champion out of the Gallows?’ Keras suggested, a little shyly in front of the two Senior Templars. ‘Right now we have the opportunity. It would be perfect timing. Almost every Templar is outside and the Knight Commander is with them. She won’t notice anything.’ He looked expectantly to the former Knight Captain but Cullen shook his head.

‘It is too dangerous. We would have to disappear with her for starters, or otherwise we could as well sign our own death warrant. And if we would help her to escape and stayed away, Meredith would take it out on the Circle or perhaps even on the Templars. She is not exactly a steady rock nowadays.’

For once Thrask agreed with him. ‘We have to bring Hawke back to her cell. It could well be that even healing her can set Meredith off, although I’m willing to take that risk. We can’t leave her in this state. But maybe there’s another solution.’ He stared pensively ahead. ‘Cullen was correct by not sending you to the Keep earlier, but now is the right moment. Go and tell them what happened.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Tell Fenris he has to free Albran Hawke this very night though not sooner; tell him to be patient and to wait till dark. I figure by then the tension has lessened and the het-up alertness of Meredith and Mettin has slackened to some extent. He must use the secret passage through the sewers. If the Champion is whisked away out of her prison, the Knight Commander can’t put the blame on us. At least not openly.’ He snorted. ‘We can always hope,’ he uttered silently.

Cullen thoughtfully bit his lip. ‘You can’t be certain about that. Perhaps she won’t link us directly to an escape, but the ones who stand guard will undoubtedly get severely punished. And it could well be they won’t be the only ones.’

‘I think the ones who will be guarding the Champion this night will be dead before that happens; they will sooner feel the elf’s fist through their chest than the hemp rope around their neck,’ Thrask countered sarcastically. ‘We must do something before Meredith decides she wants to kill Hawke after all. We have no choice in the matter. Or do you want to explain later to Fenris that his wife is dead because we were too scared for the consequences to take adequate steps?’

Cullen had to admit he didn’t look forward to the elf’s reaction, if that were the case.

Thrask added, ‘And about Meredith’s response, you must not exaggerate what she will do. I can hardly believe she will execute the whole Order.’ He grimaced dourly. ‘She can always try, of course, but I’m convinced that even her most loyal followers would turn against her in that case.’

Keran looked from Thrask to Cullen, not knowing whom to obey. He was tingling with enthusiasm to save the woman who once saved him but he needed approval.

Cullen wrecked his impeccable hair with his fingers, silently cursing the blighted situation. Finally he cut the knot. ‘You know about the secret passage?’ he asked Keran.

The young Templar nodded. ‘I do.’ Shortly after Thrask had approached him with his dream of Templars and mages working together, he had shown him the way to get in and out of the Gallows unnoticed.

‘Then make use of it now. We will bring the Champion back to her prison, you run to the Keep.’ He rummaged around in the box holding his belongings and produced a bunch of keys which he handed to Keran. ‘Fenris will need these,’ he said, ‘they’re my spare keys to the prison cells.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘A good thing I didn’t leave them in my old room, I suppose.’

Thrask thought that this must have been the first and only act of insubordination Cullen had ever committed in his entire life.

At that moment Albran put in a word, a considerable indignant word. Due to Orsino’s treatment she felt a lot better, physically, that was. The pain had subsided, but then again, the feeling of utter humiliation lingered. And not to forget the dreadful fact she would have been dead, had Meredith and that Orlesian snake would have had their way, didn’t abandon her thoughts just like that. She had danced on an awfully thin line. And now she was pissed off. Extremely pissed off.

She sat straight, edgily swatting away Orsino’s helping hand and hoisted up what was left of her once so beautiful gown, in an ultimate attempt to maintain some modesty. ‘I must say I feel rather insulted you’re talking about me as though I have to be saved like some damsel in distress,’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t I get the opportunity to fight myself out of this tight situation? You can all pretend I knocked you out, making use of your surprise I at once woke up from the dead. Or something like that. Use your imagination. And can someone please provide me with a shirt and a pair of trousers? I’m practically naked here!’

Keran hurried away to go and fetch the demanded items, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Despite the situation Cullen had to laugh. ‘I like your suggestion, Champion, but I’m afraid it won’t withhold Meredith from taking drastic measures.’

With an irritated huff Albran slumped against the wall, demonstratively folding her arms over her hardly covered bosom. ‘So, I am to be dragged back and forced to play the part of the powerless victim. Without getting the chance to defend myself. A fine Champion I make!’

‘I understand your annoyance, but at this moment I see no other option,’ Cullen put his foot down, ‘unless you want us to be killed the moment Meredith finds out we have let you slip through our fingers.’

Hawke wanted to yell at him that annoyance didn’t even come close to describe how she was feeling but understood it was no sufficient reply to Cullen’s sound argument. She sagged a little and sighed defeated. ‘I fear you’re right about that. Very well. Bring me back to my lovely first-class accommodation.’ She let out a mordant snort. ‘I can’t wait for the moment my beloved husband will rip out the hearts of both Meredith and that sadistic bully she made Knight Captain. Although I think I will keep the satisfaction of killing _him_ for myself.’

-

Not much later, Keran was struggling against a very angry and determined Fenris in the office of the passed away Viscount.

The elf stared at the keys Keran had pushed into his hand. ‘Is there any reason why we should wait until nightfall to free Albran?’ he asked, fractiously. ‘Why not this very moment?’

‘Ser Cullen and Ser Thrask thought it best to wait,’ Keran said. He felt ill at ease under Fenris’s scrutinizing look.

‘To wait for what? To give that deranged viper the chance to murder Albran as yet, when her mood takes her?’

Keran wriggled his fingers. ‘Ser Cullen and Ser Thrask won’t be pleased if you act right now,’ he tried and got almost pinned down by Fenris’s fiery scowl. Notwithstanding he gathered his courage and soldiered on. ‘They think it’s best to wait until it is dark and things have calmed down somewhat. They think it will be easier to free the Champion by then. They will keep an eye on her to make sure nothing bad befalls her.’

‘Like they have done so far, you mean,’ Fenris scoffed. ‘It appears they indeed succeeded tremendously.’ He had been furious when he learned what had happened; he was furious still but tried with all his might to restrain himself. The young Templar didn’t deserve his wrath; it was better to vent his rage on the persons responsible for Albran’s suffering. ‘Down in the sewers and the dungeons there is no difference between day and night. And I don’t think things will calm down, as long as that idiot stays in charge. I really see no reason to postpone the rescue operation until it is too late. We will take action now.’ Defiantly he looked around at the others present.

‘I’m with you,’ Varric reacted simply. ‘The sooner Hawke will be out off the Gallows, the better I will feel.’

‘And I feel the same,’ Isabela backed the dwarf.

‘Perhaps we can seize this unexpected opportunity and launch an attack upon the Gallows,’ Aveline suggested. Her previous hesitation had dissolved and now she wanted to do something constructive.

‘No,’ Fenris immediately contradicted her proposal. ‘I want Albran safely out of that prison first. I’m not risking the chance she will get killed in the battle, unarmed and without armour as she is, or being hauled off by hostile Templars in the middle of the fray. I will take just a few persons with me.’

Aveline refrained from making a nasty remark about who exactly was in charge. ‘I didn’t hear you utter that argument while we were discussing the best way to attack the Gallows,’ she grumbled instead.

The elf glowered at her. ‘At that time I didn’t think there would be an occasion to get Albran out in another way. Now I do and I will not squander the opportunity.’

The Guard Captain deflated, seeing his point of view. ‘I guess you are right. Make haste then.’

‘You two will come with,’ Fenris turned to Varric and Isabela. His eyes fell upon Merrill who said nothing but just looked at him with wide pleading orbs. Before he could even consider what to say, he heard himself promise, ‘And you can come as well, if you want to.’ Already half regretting that impulsive decision he cut her short before she could express her enthusiastic gratitude. ‘Just don’t say a word.’ He heaved his hand when she nonetheless started an excited prattle. ‘Not. One. Word.’

Keran opened his mouth in a last attempt to change Ferris’s mind but the elf had apparently anticipated that and spun around to address him. ‘And the same counts for you,’ he bit. Keran snapped his mouth shut. He reasoned he couldn’t force the Champion’s husband to obey the orders of Ser Thrask and the former Knight Captain; Fenris was not a Junior Templar.

‘And what about me?’ asked Sebastian who had returned from the Chantry. ‘Are you going to leave me behind?’

‘I like you to go back to the Grand Cleric and tell her what has transpired,’ Fenris said. ‘She may not be able to intervene, but she must know about the situation.’

‘Perhaps you can both pray for the success of the enterprise,’ Aveline said with sardonic malice. ‘You and her Grace seem to be extremely good at that, instead of springing into real action. And who knows this time the Maker will listen.’

Sebastian shot her a dirty look but was wise enough not to react. He had learned his lesson.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the rather messy way I have handled this story uptil now. I mean, posting chapters twice, skipping some altogether ... ahum. I promise to do better from now on.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again some angsty moments but again things will get better. Very much better.

Chapter 25

-

Ser Mettin was beside himself with fury. He hadn’t dared to vent his anger in the presence of the Knight Commander, of course. Let alone he would have had the courage to tell her that he totally opposed to her decision of showing mercy to Albran Hawke. He had clenched his jaw the moment Thrask had intervened and had walked towards Meredith full of infuriating confidence and had stopped the execution of the conviction. To his dread she had agreed. At least she had agreed to postpone the punishment. He just could restrain himself to punch the wall. The postponement might have been a fact for now, and it could well be he’d have his satisfaction after all. But he had been in a flow and the smell of blood had set him off, like a predator sensing his prey giving up and ready for the kill. He had enjoyed flogging the arrogant wench; he had taken extreme pleasure in her cries of agony and the sight of her face contorted in pain and despair. And now he felt utterly frustrated he hadn’t been allowed to finish the job.

He stomped through the corridors of the Gallows, accompanied by six of his cronies, looking for someone to harass. But then a cruel, sadistic smile appeared around his lips. That he couldn’t kill her, at least not yet, didn’t mean he wasn’t able to make her life as miserable as possible. First, he would see to it she wouldn’t receive healing. And if that worm Thrask had already arranged she had had the treatment, he would whip her again. And that would be just the start of it. He would taste her body, her beautiful body. He would possess her and no power in the world would be able to withhold him from making the Champion of Kirkwall his own. He nearly orgasmed by the thought. With a considerably increased mood he made his way to the dungeons. He had to make a short detour to fetch the devises he would need. When he had finished with her, she would wish she’d died on that pole.

-

‘You should get out of here,’ Cullen turned to Orsino, ‘I don’t know what will happen now, but I have the nasty feeling Meredith will turn against you at the very opportunity she will get. And if need be she will create that opportunity. Finding you here, instead of in your own office, can put us all in danger. She must be irritated, even though she approved with Ser Thrask to let the Champion live for now.’ He squinted at the First Enchanter. ‘To be frank, my hands itch to give you a good thrash right now and the only reason I don’t, is to make things not more complicated than they already are.’

At that very moment Mettin and his dumb-bell blind followers passed the entrance of Cullen’s new room. The former Knight Captain grabbed Orsino’s arm and jerked him back inside.

‘Fuck!’ Thrask let slip, alarmed. ‘What the hell is he up to!’

‘I can think of a thing or two,’ Cullen reacted darkly, ‘and I can’t imagine any of it will be anything good.’ He pushed the First Enchanter out of the door. ‘Go and retreat to you room. Don’t try to invent some kind of heroic deed to perform. We have to cope with enough problems without your interference.’ He almost kicked him into the corridor and turned sharply to Thrask. ‘We have to protect her.’

Thrask looked ill at ease. ‘Just the two of us against the seven of them?’

Something snapped inside Cullen and he stamped his foot, at the same moment realising how childish he reacted. It made him only angrier. ‘You were the one who set all this into motion and now you recoil?!’

Thrask glared incredulously at him. He straitened his shoulders and suddenly burst out, driven by anger and mostly anxiety, ‘Pardon me but it wasn’t my choice to revolt in this way! _You_ are the one who always has been the uncritical worshipper of that power mad virago and forced the likes of me to do something about her reign of tyranny that only could lead this whole city to destruction! You never wanted to see the truth! _You_ were the one who believed that mages sooner or later always would turn into demon infested abominations because of what you experienced in the Circle of Ferelden! And your own trauma is now the one and only reason why this city has fallen into chaos and the Champion is suffering for it! You were the Captain! You could have done something about it but you were too scared and too cowardly! And let’s not forget too bigoted! Don’t you dare to blame me!’ he snarled.

Cullen staggered back as if struck physically. He fought for breath and tried to find a convenient counterattack, or even a suitable answer, but found none. This accusation came simply too unexpected and the truth it held hit him like a battering ram. But he got no time to recuperate.

‘Ser Thrask!’ The voice pierced through both their feverish thoughts. ‘What are you doing here? Plotting against me?!’

Shit!

Feverishly Thrask tried to gauge the mood the Knight Commander was in after his interference in the Gallows Courtyard. She could be furious and out for punishing Cullen for it. She could feel smug about ordering one of the most prominent nobles into place. She could even have forgotten about the whole nasty incident. She got more unpredictable by the day.

But before Thrask could even react, Cullen already answered; he had put himself together within a heartbeat. He had grown used to her outbursts and had learned so well to react adequately that he now reacted as out of instinct. He bowed lightly. ‘Forgive me ma’am.’

It didn’t escape Thrask that Cullen addressed Meredith as if she were some kind of queen or empress. It didn’t escape Meredith either and though Thrask feared she would take it badly, Cullen somehow had managed to pacify her with it. Apparently she still took the bait.

‘Ser Thrask just visited me because he lent out his copy of the Chant of Light to me and wondered if I still had the book in my possession after my removal. He simply was afraid it would have gone lost; it is an exquisite piece of work. It was wrought in the days of Andraste Herself, if I’m not mistaken, and is priceless.’

For a moment Thrask feared Cullen had overdone it, but then the Knight Commander’s features relaxed. ‘All right,’ she said, to his amazement. ‘I hope the copy is still in your care?’

Cullen simply took a book out of the ones scattered on the rickety table and held it up. ‘I believe it is.’

Meredith narrowed her eyes while she drew nearer and studied the cover. Her gaze flew to Thrask. ‘I wasn’t aware you possessed such an invaluable copy of the Chant.’

Thrask pulled himself together. _Neither was I._ ‘It’s not something one advertises, Knight Commander,’ he answered straight-faced. He added humbly, ‘I can understand you’d like to borrow it, or give it as an exceptional gift to the Chantry ..?’

But Meredith just irritably fluttered her hand. ‘As if that doddering old crone would appreciate it.’ She shook her head. ‘Just carry on.’ She threw one more distrustful look upon the both of them but seemingly decided to stay silent. Perhaps she took her loss, perhaps she really trusted them, as far as her trust went, of course. And then she disappeared. Leaving them mesmerised.

Thrask took a deep breath. ‘I never knew you had –‘

Cullen lifted his hand to silence him. ‘It was a gift from my mother. She gave it to me when I joined the Order. I believe it is an heirloom. Yes, it is priceless but to be honest, I don’t care one bit. It still holds the text of the Chant of Light. That’s what counts.’

_How typical you._

‘Can we please return to the problem at hand? Mettin is after the Champion, and l believe we are at this moment the only ones to stop him.’

‘Before Fenris is here,’ Thrask mumbled. He looked up. ‘Will you allow the elf to kill the –‘

‘Yes,’ Cullen impatiently cut him short.

He still hadn’t worked out the accusations the other man had thrown into his face, but he was willing to admit he hated the new Knight Captain from the bottom of his heart. Not out of petty jealousy, far from that, but he was genuinely afraid he would cause a lot of trouble. Or, even worse: was out for _making_ a lot of trouble. Better put, to make misuse of his sudden rise to power. The man was a classic example of someone who couldn’t handle the authority given to him; he would use it to his own advantage, which in his case meant bullying other people and making their lives as miserable as possible. He bowed his head. He was scared, he was willing to admit that much. Fenris could rouse a war. As could Thrask. As could Anders. As could he, when it came down to it. This whole city could be developed in serious problems within a heartbeat, more problems than she already had to cope with. He could stop it. Just by killing Thrask and then turn to Meredith. He could go to her at this very moment, to tell her what was happening behind her back.

Was that what he wanted?

He was very well aware of the looks Thrask threw upon him. Undoubtedly the same kind of thoughts were racing through the other man’s mind.

And then he realised there was only one thing he wanted: he wanted to save Kirkwall and he could no longer deny Meredith was the biggest threat right now. No ghost-calls of friends long lost. No nightmares of Uldred binding him in his unbearable magical prison. No fear for magic whatsoever. There was more at stake right now than his teenage traumas. Time to see the real danger.

He regarded the other Templar with open and determined eyes. ‘Yes, if it takes to rescue the Champion, I will let Fenris kill Mettin,’ he said. His lips formed a harsh thin line. ‘I will kill him myself, if need be.’

Thrask was impressed. ‘I owe you an apology,’ he said meekly. ‘I think I failed to see how you constantly found yourself between a rock and a hard place. And you pulled us out of a tight situation only minutes previous.’

But Cullen shook his head. ‘You owe me nothing. You were correct; I’ve wallowed too long in my own traumas. I could have prevented this mess.’

‘Then let’s go after them,’ Thrask offered.

 ‘Let’s just do that,’ Cullen answered grimly.

-

For the second time that day Hawke got startled by the ominous sound of jingling armour. Alarmed she got up from the small cot she had sagged down on after she was left in her prison. _Bloody hell, can’t they leave me at peace for just one hour?!_ The next moment the entrance of her prison more or less got kicked in and before she knew it the new Knight Captain got hold of her arms. This time she never got the time to put up a fight.

‘Did you really think you were safe, you miserable piece of shit?’ he hissed into her ear. She made an effort to get rid of his hold but he was too strong and too determined. ‘Bardir, poke up the fire!’ he called out to a young man who looked more than eager to comply, he mirrored his sadistic joy. ‘You know what to do.’

She struggled against his grip and saw out of the corner of her eye the young Templar put down a bucket filled with glowing coals. He jerked something in it that looked like a stamp attached to a metal pole. He grinned maliciously when he looked at her. She wanted him dead. She jerked again, and again with no avail.

‘I don’t care whether you’re a mage or not, but you will pay for your sins,’ Mettin whispered hoarsely into her ear. ‘And as I can’t take any risks, I will take the ultimate measure instead.’ He sniggered and his hot breath touched her skin with malevolence. She smelled the fumes of hard liquor and wondered if he had mustered courage by imbibing large amounts of alcohol. ‘And either way, it will cost you a lot of pain.’

She tried to shrink back. He cackled with devilish delight. It made her cringe.

Albran struggled some more but it didn’t help her anything. She managed to kick his shin but since she was barefoot it had no effect. It only made him laugh louder. Infuriated and in a desperate attempt to fight him off, she twisted her head and bit him hard in the exposed skin of his neck. To her satisfaction she drew blood. He cursed and whacked her brutally around the ears. Her head yanked back and she saw white exploding stars behind her eyelids. Another Templar ran to his aid and together they held her wriggling protesting body down. The young boy – he hardly could have taken the oath yet – approached her with the red burning stamp, grinning devilishly. It looked like a blazing sun.

_They have completely gone insane. He_ must _know I’m not a mage._ She grinded her teeth _. But that doesn’t matter, does it. He just wants to hurt me._

The thought had barely the time to pass her mind before she felt the excruciating pain when the red-hot iron burned the skin of her forehead. Involuntarily it made her scream out. Above her own agony she heard Mettin laugh demonically. Again she felt him push his lips to her ear. ‘And now we are going to have even more fun with you,’ he promised her gravelly.

He shred the shirt Keran had brought her, only to expose her breasts, and at the same time put a hand into her pants. She went rigid.

-

Fenris heard her desperate scream and pushed Keran aside. ‘She is in pain,’ he cried out.

‘Please, wait!’ the young Templar called out to the suddenly blue ignited warrior but the elf didn’t listen. He impatiently threw the wooden latch leading to the Gallows’ dungeons open and pushed himself up. In no time he found himself in a dank and cold corridor.

‘Damn it, elf, have some consideration with the short-legged people,’ Varric panted while he hauled himself up but, of course, Fenris didn’t heed his plea. He ran through the dark bending passage till he reached some kind of broadening space with adjacent jails. He more felt and heard than saw what was happening,

A Templar attempting to violate his wife.

He didn’t hesitate one moment.

-

Albran tried with all her might to prevent Mettin’s intention to rape her. He had pulled down her pants and opened his. With abhorrence she saw his white eager prancing cock. _Not again. Maker, please, not again._ But no matter how hard she tried to break free, the hands of his accomplice pushed her down and she didn’t have the strength to deny that force. Her head still reeled from the former strike. Not to mention it burned with the fresh stamped mark.  She couldn’t believe the idiot had persevered with his action.  The smell of her own fried flesh made her nauseous. And it hurt like hell.

And then she heard the deafening war cry of her husband. It was all the encouragement she needed to free herself from the hands that held her down. With a desperate blow she broke free and smashed the co-conspirator’s jaw and he staggered stunned back. And then her knee went up and hit Mettin clear in the groin. He bent double and fell over her body. She grabbed his face and hissed on her turn in his ear, ‘Guess who is going to pay for his sins now.’

The first to fall under Fenris’s frenzied fury was the young eager Templar who had handled the poke. He died pathetically gurgling, hardy understanding what happened; his heart half ripped out and stilling on his chest.

But then two of the Templars who had accompanied the new Knight Captain drew bows. One of them even accomplished to nock an arrow. He aimed at Fenris’s unprotected back and fired.

His arrow got shattered into thousand pieces and practically turned to sawdust.

‘I don’t think so,’ Merrill murmured satisfied, eyeing her staff with satisfaction.

‘Good thinking, Daisy,’ Varric grimaced while he launched a bolt of volleys.

Fenris grabbed Mettin by the throat. ‘Take your hands off my woman,’ he growled and pulled his lame body off hers. Over his shoulder he looked into her eyes. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Never been better,’ she grinned and then she stilled his hand that was at the brink of ripping the Templar’s throat out. ‘This one is mine.’

Hr nodded understandingly and tossed the body harshly on the floor. Mettin’s head made contact with the hard rock and for a moment he lay motionless.

Albran looked around. She jumped to Isabela and deprived her of one of her daggers. The pirate queen hardly got the chance to protest. ‘Sorry, love, need this one. Promise you will get it back.’

Isabela’s hurt expression turned in an instance into glee. ‘Have fun!’ she called after her.

Albran jumped upon Mettin’s squirming frame. She was almost inflating with fury. ‘I’m sick and tired of people ruining the clothes I’m wearing,’ she yelled. Perhaps not the most invigorating or bloodcurdling battle cry ever uttered, but at least it came from the bottom of her heart and gave her some satisfaction. And, Varric assured her afterwards, you could say it at any rate was very original. That counted for something. At the very moment she couldn’t care less.

She plunged the dagger into Mettin’s heart.

Perhaps she had wanted him to die with much more agony but to see his unmoving body with a shocked expression perishing under her was in the end enough satisfaction.

‘Good for you, sweetness,’ Isabela smirked with grand approval, ‘give him his what for.’ Albran returned the dagger with a satisfied grin.

And then, to all astonishment, all Templars were dead.

-

Fenris turned to Albran. She just smiled. Just as he, she was smeared with blood but that didn’t withhold him to draw her into his arms and kiss her passionately. Then he took a step back and eyed her. He saw the mark on her brow and cringed. ‘I came too late.’

She smiled again. ‘No, my love, you didn’t.’

Grudgingly he touched the fiery mark. Albran shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Apparently I wasn’t a mage after all.’ And then she broke into tears.

Only now Cullen and Thrask arrived.

‘Oh hell,’ the latter said, eyeing the carnage.

Fenris turned to them, still holding Albran. ‘I can see you indeed protected her,’ he spat viciously, ‘you did a fantastic job too.’

Varric stepped forward. ‘I think it’s better to get everyone into safety, elf, before we start screaming and pointing fingers.’

Fenris lifted Albran, who was still sobbing, in his arms and started to the sewers, ‘I don’t care what you decide to do, but I’m getting her out of here.’

Cullen put his hand upon Thrask’s arm. We stay here.’ Before the other Templar could start to protest he added harshly, ‘we start our war in this place.’

Fenris didn’t listen to him but Varric smiled.

‘I presume we will hear from you shortly?’

Cullen shot him a short ominous smile. ‘You bet.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to confess, I wrote this story before the Inquisition. So everything I knew about Cullen at that time I picked up from Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age II and I tried to make a reliable Knight Captain from the bits and pieces. I hope you like the character.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is struggling but comes to a sound decision.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 26

-

‘You can put me down now,’ Hawke grinned somewhat awkwardly when they had reached Darktown through the sewers. ‘I’m positive I will somewhere find the strength to walk the way back home by myself.’ She was done crying and felt a little foolish about her unexpected shed tears. It wasn’t exactly characteristic behaviour on her part, but she blamed it on the almost rape Fenris had just in time prevented. Despite her big mouth she had been terrified. She might have what Anders had done to her all those months ago put away in that carefully closed drawer in the cupboard of her memories, the remembrance of that dreadful event had jumped out of its hidden place with an overwhelming power at the moment Mettin had tried to force himself upon her.  

As if he caught her thoughts, and again she knew for certain he did, Fenris’s face clouded over. ‘We can’t get home. Not yet.’ He carefully put her back on her feet but he kept holding her. His mind also had been drawn back to that fateful night. He understood all too well why she had burst into tears. That, and all she had had to endure of late, which she would undoubtedly wave away as nothing special. It would be just like her to state it was all in a day’s work. But, just as she, he chose not it mention it.

‘What? Why not?’

He sighed, trying to brush aside the recollections of what state she’d been in when he had found her in her library. More pressing affairs needed their attention. ‘Because the place has been ruined. By Templars.’ At second thought this approach could work better. She never had been someone to shy away from bad news. Like a marbari she’d pounce and chew the information. ‘We’re staying in the Keep for the time being, which is much safer anyhow, considering the dangers we face.’

She stared at him, not knowing to feel furious or sad. ‘So it wasn’t enough they took me prisoner, they also had to destroy our home?’

‘They were looking for me,’ Fenris explained flatly. ‘And when they couldn’t find me, they took out their frustration on the house. Exactly like they did with Anders’s clinic. It’s not a pretty sight.’

Albran trailed her fingers along his jaw and gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I’m sure we can repair or replace what they destroyed; it’s not important right now. It’s just material damage. At least...’ A sudden flash of panic washed over her face. ‘Bodahn and Sandal and Orana –‘

‘Don’t worry, my love, they’re staying in the Keep as well. As does Rascal. They weren’t present when the Templars wrecked the estate. They are safe.’

She let out a puff of relief. ‘Then please tell me how you managed to escape. I’m dying to hear the story.’

‘You’d better brace yourself,’ Varric grimaced behind Fenris’s back. He smirked far too cheery to her taste. ‘You’re hardly going to believe your ears.’

Fenris took her hand in his and started walking. ‘We may as well head for the Keep in the meantime. You’ll have to let a healer take a look at your – injury before it gets infected.’ He felt miserable and couldn’t help thinking he could have prevented that ugly symbol of Templar oppression if he had made his move faster. He was well aware his view about that particular symbol was one shared with Anders, but in the same instant he had to confess he couldn’t but agree with him. It was a strange and confusing conclusion but, on the other hand, so many things had happened shortly that were equally strange and confusing, he wasn’t even surprised by his own thoughts.

Albran sensed his feelings of guilt. ‘This is not your fault,’ she said softly. Now the adrenaline had drained, it was hard to ignore the burning pain of the spot on the skin of her forehead, the mocking brightness of the shining sun forced upon mages who would never feel  bright again afterwards. But nevertheless she didn’t want to think about it. Not at this moment.

‘I should have acted the moment I got the chance,’ Fenris reacted vehemently, ‘instead of listening to Aveline and her cautious plans.’ He clenched his jaw when he thought of the Guard Captain’s fear of burning her fingers or, perhaps more adequate, burning the fingers of a whole city-state. She might have been right to be careful in her wish to not ignite the already existing flash-points even more, but Albran had suffered for it and he cursed himself for hesitating to jump into action immediately. He squeezed her hand and cringed. ‘And now they marked you.’

She straightened her shoulders. ‘So what. I will bare this mark with pride.’ She was far from convinced herself by that solid statement, but wanted to put him at ease. After all, it indeed was not his fault. And perhaps she could use it as a statement, to root out the harsh inhumane punishment.

And then Fenris said, ‘They branded you as a mage. As a Tranquil.’

He sounded disgusted and Hawke instantly grew cold. Her hackles rose. Was that how he saw her now? Like some kind of hideous creature? Like some kind of – abomination? She stopped so abruptly Varric almost bumped into her, and to the dwarf’s dismay she burst out, ‘Is that the most prominent thing on your mind? Does it bother you that much?’

She wriggled her hand out of Fenris’s firm grasp, her expression a picture of utter anger, indignation and hurt. She put her hands on her hips instead and spat, ‘Do you mean you are ashamed of me? Does your love dither, now I’m marked as a mage? Are your feelings for me that shallow? Or do I remind you suddenly of your past and your former master, now I resemble a mage, and you want to run away from me? Again?!’

‘No!’ Fenris cried out, horrified by her train of thoughts.

‘I would take care if I were you,’ Varric warned him. ‘The lady isn’t exactly at her best right now.’ He could almost feel her quiver with distraught and he could only hope the elf would handle her with the care she needed.

Fenris turned to face her and grabbed her arms. ‘How can you think such a thing!’ he said with a choked voice. ‘Even if you were a mage I would love you like mad. You know that, don’t you?’ He sounded desperate. ‘I love you because you are you, I love you for your mind, your spirit.’ He swallowed hard and added emotionally, ‘But if had you been a mage, you would be a Tranquil by now and I would have lost you.’ As if he was suddenly afraid she would feel affronted he had grabbed her like that, he let go off her and his arms fell down.

Albran went very still. Slowly it got through to her he hadn’t sounded disgusted at all, but anxious and genuinely disconcerted instead. With a shock she realised he really had imagined how bad the situation would have turned out, had she indeed been a mage. And how greatly even the mere thought upset him. She was painfully conscious of the grief radiating from his eyes. She deflated and felt hugely ashamed. And three inches high. She wanted to kick herself and tentatively reached out for him, touching his hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, embarrassed, ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’ And there were the irritating tears again. It seemed she couldn’t avoid them.

Fenris pulled her into his arms. ‘I know,’ he murmured on her lips, ‘and I’m not offended.’ Before she could utter more unnecessary apologies, he kissed her tenderly.

‘All right, love birds, I think it’s very sweet and all that nonsense, but can we hurry on already?’ Isabella said, impatiently tapping her foot.

‘Oh but they are so cute together,’ Merrill swooned.

‘Yes kitten, supercute, but it won’t be that cute anymore when we get caught up by pursuing Templars.’

Hawke looked up. ‘That won’t happen. The ones we have to fear don’t know about the secret passage.’ She frowned grimly. ‘And the ones we _had_ to fear the most are dead.’

‘Even so, Isabela is right. It’s not wise to dally down here,’ Fenris said determinedly, though still a little off balance, and  he started walking once more. ‘Since there are rioting bands everywhere in the city, I want to get to the Keep as fast as possible.’

Albran furrowed her brow and flinched immediately after. Furrowing a burned brow wasn’t a bright idea. Nevertheless she managed, ‘Rioting bands?’

‘Apparently half of Kirkwall thought it a good idea to go on a rampage with their Champion in prison,’ Varric said sarcastically. ‘Be it they are extremely angry with Meredith’s procedure, or see an opportunity to fight and plunder unhindered while the keeper of the peace is locked away.’

‘Thank you for your explanation, Varric,’ Fenris said with a crooked smile. ‘I’m sure Albran got the picture. I will update her along the way.’

‘Like I said, brace yourself,’ Varric, who always liked to have the last word, warned her. Fenris just rolled his eyes. And then started talking. And with every word he spoke, Albran got more confused.

-

Thrask looked at the bodies strewn around them. ‘I must say, they did a thorough job,’ he remarked drily.

In a corner Keran was heroically trying not to vomit.

‘Oh come on, lad, this can’t be the first time you see a corpse,’ Thrask said, a bit irritably.

‘I did, Ser, I mean, saw them. But they were mostly demons,’ Keran spluttered. ‘And frankly, I could never stomach it.’ He retched again and could barely restrain himself from throwing up seriously.

‘Give the boy a break, Thrask,’ Cullen reacted mildly. ‘I’ve witnessed some massacres in my time but this scene doesn’t lift my spirits.’

Yet he managed to look unperturbed, Thrask noticed.

He shrugged. Just as Cullen, he had been wrapped in fights and skirmishes and had seen gruesome things. Seen the worst kind of humanity. And that of demons, of course. He had to admit you never got used to it, not really, but in the end you learned to cope with it. Mostly by ignoring it. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘We’re going to think practical. And we have to act swiftly before this,’ Cullen gestured around, ‘is discovered.’

‘You’re just going to leave them like this?’ Thrask sounded astonished.

‘Unless you want to be clapped in irons the moment you report what has happened ...’ Cullen let the question hover in the air.

‘Of course not. It’s just – never mind.’

Cullen smiled wanly. ‘You never thought I would reason like this.’

His fellow Templar reciprocated the smile. ‘I must say, it’s rather surprising. And refreshing, I must add.’

‘I’m not as stiff and strict as you seem to think I am.’ Cullen  turned to Keran. ‘For the Maker’s sake lad, go outside before you add to the already plentiful gore.’ It was all the encouragement Keran needed to fly to the corridor and take some gulps of relatively fresh air. ‘Like I said, we will start the war here.’ He let his eyes wander over the dead, mutilated bodies once more before he looked up at Thrask. ‘I take it you know where to find Anders ..?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Thrask replied carefully. ‘What are you planning?’

‘If we’re going to put up a fight, we will need assistance. I want you – ‘ He cut himself short and smiled faintly. ‘I’m sorry; I no longer carry the authority to give orders to anyone.’

But Thrask shook his head. ‘To me you’re still the Knight Captain. Speak your mind.’

Cullen took a breath. ‘I’d like you to coordinate the attack. Anders may be determined, but I doubt he has any military know-how. You do. And for Andraste’s sake, keep an eye on that Marius before he escapes and causes Maker knows what kind of disasters. We have already enough of those to cope with.’

‘I agree we need all the assistance we can get. So why did you let Fenris and Hawke and their friends leave? We could have used their extraordinary talents.’

Cullen threw one last look upon the very dead Mettin before he walked out of the prison cell, gathering his thoughts. ‘Didn’t you see in what condition the Champion was? The dead fool has branded her as a Tranquil and I believe he was close to raping her. She was in no way to fight!’ He added, thoughtfully, ‘That’s not what the Order stands for.’

He paused for a moment, clasping his hands behind his back and continued pensively, ‘The Order has been desecrated for too long a time. I can’t name the moment Meredith became insane; undoubtedly it has been a slow process and, yes, I have turned my head, I have defended her for too long. But not anymore.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to still his galloping heart, and then looked intensely at Thrask. ‘You were right to start your – movement. As Anders was right to start his.’

He unclasped his hands and rubbed his face. ‘And yes, I – allowed them to go.’ A brief mirthless smile fluttered over his face. ‘Albran Hawke and Fenris both need some time to recuperate after all that has happened to them.’ He snorted again shortly. ‘But knowing them, they will recover fast. We can trust they will fight at our side soon enough.’

He turned to Keran who was still leaning against a wall. ‘Listen, lad.’ Seeing the boy’s white face he added with some consideration, ‘You feel better?’ When Keran nodded (determined to show the Knight Captain his stoic Templar-face), Cullen went on, ‘While Thrask goes to Anders and lead the mages’ attack through the sewers,’ (he could hardly believe he spoke those words, but desperate times called for desperate measures), ‘you go and gather the Templars and mages who have joined your pressure group. You think you’re up to that?’

Keran nodded fervently. ‘Yes Sir,’ he said, in case the Captain hadn’t caught the message.

‘I don’t know your usual meeting point ..?’ Cullen looked questioning at Thrask.

‘The Wounded Coast. But that’s not an option now. Too far away.’

Cullen nodded. ‘Then we will meet here, down in the dungeons,’ he decided. ‘We will need to intercept the Templar who is responsible for Hawke’s food and drink -’

‘She is one of ours,’ Thrask interrupted him.

‘Good. That only makes things easier.’ Again he addressed Keran, who had never felt more important in his entire life and stood as straight as a rod, forgetting about his nausea that still threatened to overwhelm him. ‘You go and find Anders. Tell him to attack at mid-night. Collect all the members of your organisation and send someone to the Keep to inform the Guard Captain and the Champion and Fenris to join the mages in the sewers.’

‘Why not attack at two fronts?’ Thrask proposed. ‘MUM through the sewers, the Guards through the gates?’

‘I like that idea but it is impossible, I’m afraid.’ Cullen grimaced. ‘It would be simple if we had gaatlok to blow up the steel bars, but we haven’t.’

‘We could someone have open the gates,’ Thrask suggested.

Cullen thought about it for a few moments and then smiled again. And again thinly. ‘That could work. Alright, Keran, I trust you, see to that also. And give me a sign when you’ve accomplished your assignments. I’ll be waiting down here. We only have one chance to let this work. Let’s make sure that one chance will be successful.’

He gladly would open the gates himself, instead of pushing the boy into danger, but he would be recognised within a breath. And then he felt the lad’s hand upon his arm.

‘You can trust me, Captain Ser.’

He already opened his mouth to tell Keran – again – he was no longer his Captain but snapped it shut. To the boy he was still the Captain, Keran had made that much clear. And at this very  moment he understood he had to be the Captain. To Keran, to Thrask, to everyone who wanted to rescue this city.  So, yes, even to himself.

So, instead he turned to Thrask with such an uncharacteristically evil glimmer in his eyes that it made the other man stagger back. ‘Let’s make this work,’ Cullen grumbled darkly.

Thrask hoped with all his might it _would_ work.

-

Albran stopped Fenris before they had reached the end of the steps leading to Hightown. Her head was spinning with all the information he had given her. ‘Let me try to get it clear; I realised already before you were right all along about Marius being an untrustworthy filthy little weasel, but now you’re telling me Anders has found that out as well. Even more astonishing, he has saved you from evil revolting blood magic and he never intended to – rape me? That is was due to the disgusting magic that seemingly nice boy used on him?’

‘I told you to brace yourself and that you wouldn’t believe it,’ Varric said, radiating smugness as if he not had fallen for Marius’s charms as well.

‘Yes. It’s ... it is almost too much.’ She grinned bleakly. ‘Although it explains a lot of unanswered questions.’ She hung her head. ‘Like what drove Anders, for example.’ She raked her still messy hair, tousling it some more. ‘I, er I suppose he feels as wretched as I do.’

‘He does,’ Fenris assured her, ‘but nevertheless he knows it is no excuse.’ He pulled her close. ‘And neither do I.’

She leant into his frame but then recollected herself. ‘I need other clothes. My wedding dress is gone, I fear, and even the shirt Keran provided me with is shredded.’ She suppressed a shiver. ‘I know you told me our house is torn apart, but there must remain some spare garments in the closet in our bedroom. Besides that, I’m unarmed. I left Isabela’s dagger in the chest of that creepy bastard.’ She cocked her head, trying to remember the details. ‘Though I believe I returned it to her after I killed him. So, I need my own. I keep my spare weapons in that same closet; in a secret drawer to be precise. It’s a place hard to discover. They must still be there. Before we go the Keep, I want to pay a visit to the estate.’

Fenris hesitated. He didn’t want her to see the wreckage but, then again, she was a strong woman and sooner or later she would have to face what the Templars had done. _Our house. Our bedroom._ Between all the crushing things that had happened, he couldn’t help noticing those words. And couldn’t help feeling happy about it.

It wasn’t difficult to enter the house; the door was ripped off its hinges.

-

The moment they stepped over the threshold, Fenris sensed something was terribly wrong. Not a heartbeat later his fear proved to be right. He grabbed Albran’s wrist and his breath hitched.

A person walked through the door leading to the library, a smug expression plastered on his face.

‘My little Fenris. I knew you would turn up here sooner or later. You are so predictable.’

_Danarius_

His heart grew cold.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here he is in the flesh: the monster.
> 
> Needless to say stress will follow.  
> Thanks for reading!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the midden really hits the windmill.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 27

-

Anders woke at the end of the morning. Marius was already up and about and had made rabbit stew for breakfast. They had returned late last night, after the meeting with the Mages’ Underground Movement, to the cave they had slept in the night before. Normally they didn’t use the same space twice, but this one lay conveniently close to Kirkwall and at the moment the Templars had lots of other things to busy themselves with than hunting an apostate on the loose. So they hadn’t moved to another place, for once.

There hadn’t been much to discuss; Anders had only told the eager group to stand by and be ready to attack the Gallows. It had cost him all his self-control to keep a straight face around Marius and his fingers had itched to expose the little filth.

‘ _Will you stop nagging?_ ’ Justice – of course – had had to mingle with his thoughts. ‘ _There are more important things at stake.’_

‘Are there?’ Anders had sneered sarcastically. ‘The boy is a dangerous wielder of mind magic and uses blood magic; you have seen his handiwork. Don’t tell me you’re fine with that. Even you can’t condone that; there is a limit to what can be allowed to accomplish freedom for mages. Blood magic is a form of oppression; even you must comprehend it does not represent any kind of justice whatsoever.’ More or less to his surprise the spirit had fallen still at those words. He thought he could even feel a trace of shame. Once more he remembered all too well what mind magic had brought him to. He had shuddered.

He had stowed two of his books he had found in his destroyed clinic that looked promising about the knowledge he needed into his pack before he went to the gathering. He had used the pack last night as a pillow to make sure Marius wouldn’t rummage through it. He knew by now at least Fenris was immune to his so called apprentice’s mind magic, but he wanted to be able to fight that evil himself in case Justice would deem other things more important than protecting him. He only needed to find an opportunity to study the volumes.

After breakfast Marius donned his cloak and announced he was going to visit Ser Thrask to speak with him about some last details. Anders didn’t believe him one bit and yet he hesitated. This was his chance to search for a way to resist the boy. (Man, he corrected himself. It still was hard to believe Marius was twenty six, instead of the eighteen years he claimed to be.) On the other hand, it was also a chance to discover what he was scheming. So, after Marius had left, he hid his pack behind a boulder and started to follow the lying bastard, carefully staying out of sight. He ignored Justice’s yammering complaints about all the delay until he got fed up with it. ‘Shut up!’ he shouted inwardly. ‘The moment you come up with a useful plan I will heed it. Until then make yourself scarce!’ At that moment he couldn’t foresee how the spirit would take him by surprise. And play his significant part.

-

But Marius had other things to worry about than being stalked. He had received a message saying he had to be present at an outcrop in the northern part of the Wounded Coast at noon. And he knew damn well the word “message” was a nice euphemism for an outright order. It could cost him his neck. He didn’t know what he had done wrong – _if_ he had done something wrong. But if so, he’d be dead before nightfall. When he reached the place, nervous and wound up, a hooded figure stood already waiting for him, next to a gnarled tree. Behind him six men were lined up. On his approach, the person removed the hood and to Marius’s dismay he recognized senator Danarius. He forced down his panic and bowed lightly. _What the hell is the man doing here? Is it something I have done? Or have omitted? Bloody hell, I won’t see the end of this day. And I don’t even know why._

‘Master Danarius, I wasn’t aware you were in Kirkwall.’ His voice quivered slightly.

‘I’m here to collect my runaway slave,’ the magister replied curtly, not paying attention to his predicament. ‘I understand you have caught him.’ It was not a question.

Marius looked confused. How did the man know? _Just answer him_. ‘I did. Was I supposed to bring him here? I never -’

‘No,’ Danarius cut him short, ‘I’m coming with you to Kirkwall. I want him out of the city before the carnage starts, and I am the one who is best able to make certain he will stay unharmed.’

The young mage got even more puzzled. ‘Alone? In broad daylight?’ _Am I not to be punished?_

Danarius snorted derisively. ‘I understand Kirkwall is usually far more dangerous by night. And I’m not venturing into the city on my own. I will be escorted by a guard.’ He nodded at the six men standing behind him. ‘And by you.’

The ironic glance that went with the neutral voice hit Marius like a hammer. He had no other choice than to comply. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t stride into Kirkwall as a powerful Tevinter Magister. I am not here to take the place; we have other men to do that job. Now lead me to my little wolf.’

Despite the senator’s words, Marius’s heart was pounding forcefully in his throat when he took him and his retinue through Hightown to the Amell estate. But the few people that risked going out during the present tensions didn’t even look at them. He hadn’t contemplated one moment to guide Danarius into Darktown; even with his guards it would be too dangerous. Besides, he wanted to check on Fenris first and remove his bonds. It could well be the magister would explode with fury when he saw what was done to his precious pet.

Danarius cocked his eyebrows when he stepped over the threshold of the demolished estate. ‘What occurred here?’

Marius shrugged. ‘A bunch of angry Templars happened. They weren’t all too happy they couldn’t find Fenris,’ he said smugly. ‘If you’d be so good as to wait here while I fetch your slave?’

‘I take it you didn’t hide him in this house?’

‘Of course not! But I can reach the place through the cellars. I’m afraid, though, the way to the spot is dangerous. But I know the ins and outs.’ He swallowed to ease his nerves. ‘Please wait here. It won’t take long.’  He smiled overwhelmingly. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’ He cocked his head. ‘That is, I’d like to tell you to make yourself comfortable but I’m afraid that will be impossible. I’ll be back in a moment.’ And he scurried off. He felt hugely relieved to be out of the Magister’s company. The man made his skin crawl.

He was up for a very unpleasant surprise, but he wasn’t the only one.

-

‘I knew I was right about not believing poor young Marius,’ Danarius said conversationally, eying his stunned slave and the woman he was with. ‘Perhaps he indeed did capture you, but I have learned the hard way you’re not an easy one to keep in possession. Apparently he wasn’t aware of that little detail. So, I suppose I must call it blind luck I stumbled upon you anyway. It will be my pleasure to teach you the consequences of disobedience and it will not astound you I have worked out certain means to prevent you will escape me once more.’

Fenris couldn’t believe his eyes, let alone her ears, and at first he wasn’t able to react. He stood nailed down, almost literally. He cursed himself; he should have seen this coming. The moment he found out Marius was from Tevinter, he should have realised there was more than just a possibility Danarius would be nearby. Yes, he had thought about it, in a frenzied, almost feverish way, when he lay bound by blood magic in Anders’s hiding place in the healer’s clinic in Darktown, but he had cast it aside. And yes, there had rather been any time between his rescue and freeing Albran to think about the danger – _the ever present danger, you fool!_ Nevertheless, he should have considered the option. He should have been more alert.

And now the living nightmare from his past was here, threatening him and, even worse, threatening the woman he loved. He had to protect her at all costs.

But before he could do anything, Albran stepped up and faced his former master, his former tormenter. He wasn’t even surprised. She confronted the man who had made his life a living agony with wide open angry eyes. His Albran. His wife. Despite his fear and desperation he felt a pang of pride. She defended him, of course she would do that. She was full of confidence and spirit and bore perhaps even more spite against Danarius than he did. And then fear kicked in. He wanted to act, to pull her away but she already blurted out her fury. He cringed. She would pay for her blunt words. _No. That’s my history talking. Don’t be stupid. I may not have a whole past but I have a present and she gave me a future_. _Our future together._ And then he saw Danarius’s face and cringed. _She is dead._

‘Fenris is nobody’s property!’ she snarled and the disgust in her voice was palpable. She added, bursting with revulsion, ’Nobody is anybody’s property. He is my husband, I’m his wife but we are _not_ each other’s property. Yes, we belong to each other but not in the sick twisted way your mind operates. And _you_ will have a bloody hard time to separate us! Try to claim him, you deranged bastard! You make me sick! You, and the likes of you, make me want to puke! Try to take him away, it won’t happen. I will not _let_ it happen. You will have to fight me first, you coward!’

Danarius raised his brows in amusement. ‘How sweet,’ he murmured. ‘Husband and wife. I hope you know by now how skilful my little wolf is?’

Fenris roared back to life. He felt extremely dirty by this hardly concealed insinuation. Yes, Albran knew all about his awful past, but that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with someone blurting it out loud. Let alone by the one responsible for it. ‘Shut your mouth Danarius!’ he growled.

But instead of the sneer he expected back, Danarius narrowed his eyes and glared at Albran.

‘I didn’t know your lovely little she-bird was a mage. And a tranquil one no less. Although,’ he squinted, ‘it puzzles me how she manages to be such a spitfire in her – condition.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ Hawke spat back. She took a threatening step forward.

But Fenris grabbed her wrist and pushed her behind him. ‘You have to get out of here.’

‘What?! Have you gone mad?’

‘Albran, listen to me,’ he pressed urgently, never taking his eyes off Danarius. ‘You are unarmed and wear no armour; how do you think you can add to this fight, except by dying?’

Reluctantly she had to admit he had a strong point.

But Danarius interfered. ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ he purred with a predatory grin. ‘I will have two for the price of one. Wouldn’t you like that, my little wolf, your sweet champion to accompany you back home? But this time I will deprive _her_ of her memory. I think I will make her my love toy; I deem that will be an adequate punishment for your insubordination.’

‘Don’t you dare to touch her!’ Fenris hissed menacingly.

‘But I don’t _have_ to touch her, my pet. Not for now at least.’

‘I thought Meredith was vile,’ Hawke began ferociously, ‘but you are by far –‘ Her words got smothered in a suffocated tormented groan. It felt as if all her bones were being crushed from the inside out and the air got pushed out of her lungs. She fell on all fours and struggled for breath. Her sight began to blacken.

Danarius just stood, one hand stretched; a small almost serene but unmistakable superior smile played around his lips. ‘Such a sweet _feeble_ little bird,’ he murmured, almost pitiful.

‘You monster! Leave her be!’ Fenris bellowed. His markings flew ablaze in a heartbeat while he jumped towards his former master but Danarius simply extended his other hand. At once the elf became rigid.

‘I know a little mind magic too, my pet, as you may well be aware. I’m sure you remember the Fog Warriors.’

Fenris got alarmed. _Oh no_. He knew what would come next.

Danarius’s eyes drooped and he sighed. ‘I consider it a loss, but maybe she would have been more trouble than joy.’ His voice became cold. As cold as a millennium old glacier. ‘Kill her.’

Fenris’s hand automatically reached for the blade he hadn’t even drawn yet, as at a will of its own. _No,_ he thought desperately, _I will not obey._ His fingers trembled with the effort to reject the order. _You have no power over me anymore._

This was what he had feared so much. Not just the return of his master, not just to be dragged back to Minrathous, but this the most. The command to kill her and he not being able to refuse, or even resist. He clenched his jaw and the muscles in his arm contracted. His markings gave him excruciating pain, as if they were on fire, and a voice kept droning in his head. _kill her kill her kill her I will release you from the pain if you kill her kill her kill her_

He refused. His hands trembled, his muscles were strained beyond the ultimate boundary of pain, but still he wouldn’t take the sword to end her life. _Never. Never again._ Beads of sweat appeared on his brow and formed little rivulets that trickled down his temples.

Danarius saw his inner battle and felt his firm resolution. Sheer force would not be enough or, at least, take too long. So he decided to change tack. He pursed his lips.

‘Ach Leto, Leto,’ he chanted in an almost understanding way.

At hearing that foreign and yet familiar name, Fenris jerked his head up. It stirred up all kinds of memories. A vision of flaming red curly hair popped up, together with an echo of a warm loving voice. _My sweet Leto, my sweet little boy, sleep now, all troubles will be gone while you sleep..._ He even could feel the loving kiss planted on his forehead. A kiss that had wiped away all pain and worries. It brought him off balance and he staggered.

His former master scrutinized his expression meticulously and unfolded a smile even demons would flee from. His sudden hunch hadn’t fooled him, this was the leverage he needed to take control over his little wolf again. To crush him, if need be. ‘Yes,’ he whispered maliciously, ‘Leto.’ To his satisfaction his pet once more flinched by hearing the name. He went on, ‘The name that over-romantic mother of yours bestowed upon you. And you still listen to it, even over the ritual of the markings. How she cried when I killed your father and took you away from her to be eternally mine. Leto.’

The third time he heard his real name it lit up a memory like a bright candle in the night. A woman reaching out for him, her voice a lament, shattered in the thundering footsteps of stamping feet.

‘Of course that was not my intension. Killings are so messy. But even though you had volunteered, and won the contest, your father kept persisting I could not have you. He gave me no choice.’

A mass of black hair, a furious expression, it had frightened him – he had only attended the games to free them, hadn’t he..? _You cannot have him,_ his father’s voice thundered through his awoken memories _, he is nothing but a foolish boy, you extorted a ridiculous promise. You cannot have your way, I won’t have it!‘ And then a bloodied body in the sand of the arena. His father dead because of his idiotic hopes... he had wanted to free them..._ Fenris’s breath became laboured while the sudden bright visions overwhelmed him and he stared wordlessly at Danarius, his eyes wide with horror. _I wanted to free them and instead caused his death._ He recalled the desperate cries of his mother. _And her pain and predicament. All because of me._

‘Ah, I see you remember your pathetic father by now.’ Danarius was really enjoying this little cruel game. ‘You were named after him, you know. Oh, how he tried to stand up against me. A nice smear he made in the sand of the arena, although, like I said, I didn’t like the outcome of his revolt. He should have accepted the inevitable. Ah yes.’ He sighed as at a bittersweet memory. And then, in an immeasurable moment, his face contorted in utter fury. ‘You fought for the honour of the markings, you accepted me as your master, even after I killed your father. You fervently wanted your mother and sister to be free citizens. I acknowledged your wish. You won the contest, you submitted to my rules. You agreed to be my property and voluntarily underwent the experiment of the lyrium markings. I kept my end of the bargain, I set them free.’ He smiled nastily. ‘They lived as outcasts in the streets of Minrathous,’ he sneered remorselessly, ‘cursing your name. You didn’t know, of course, since I deprived you of the memories of your former life. You have no liberty to make up your own mind and do as you please. I command you. You’re my pet and my puppet. You _will_ obey me!’ After a short pause he continued, ‘ _I_ command you, and you know you have no choice. Now kill her!’

Fenris stared speechless at him. He couldn´t think clearly with all the shattered fragments of his stolen memories returning to him, and the feelings of guilt and shame that went with it. Together with the voice that had, for as long as he knew before this confronting moment, had controlled his life – until the drama with the Fog Warriors. He struggled for breath.

Danarius looked coldly at him. ‘You will obey me,’ he repeated in a low threatening voice. ‘ **Kill** her.’

Fenris panted heavily. Beads of sweat covered his brow. Against his will his hand gripped the hilt of the sword. He fought against himself but stood on the brink of losing this unfair battle. He wasn’t even able to turn his head and look at his loved one. There was no other way than to listen to his master’s voice and do what he ordered him. **Kill her**. His fingers gripped faster and twisted violently around the hilt.

And stayed there.

_Leto, my sweet Leto_ , the voice of his mother echoed from a past long gone. A voice full of love, a voice stronger than the cold one of his former master, even over all those years.

‘No,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I will _not_ kill her.’

His hand dropped away and he almost fell on his knees because of the energy it took him to go against Danarius’s strong force.

Suddenly Danarius’s face contorted with anger. ‘You insolent little brat! You will pay for this!’ In a flash he removed the staff from his back. And then he staggered back as if he got punched in the chest.

-

The moment Danarius appeared, Varric had pushed Isabela and Merrill behind the door.

‘What?!’ the pirate queen had hissed indignantly. ‘Are we going to leave them to their fate? At the mercy of that, that –‘

Varric had bristled. ‘Of course not! What are you thinking! Ever heard of the element of surprise? Let that pompous prig think he has them at his mercy, that they are alone. Then we storm in as the Rescuing Brave Knights of Honour and save the day.’

Isabela had looked dubious but stayed where she was without further comment.

Merrill, however, had peeked over his shoulder around the door post and could hardly suppress a squeak when Hawke went down on her hands and knees. ‘This isn’t going so well, Varric,’ she whispered urgently.

‘Patience, Daisy, timing is everything.’

But when, after agonizing long moments of waiting, the Dalish elf heard the harsh words the Tevinter mage uttered with that insufferable smug expression smeared over his face, and saw the agony on Fenris’s face, she spoke three words that made the dwarf almost choke and left Isabela dumbstruck with stunned disbelief.

‘Fuck you Varric.’

And she unleashed a stonefist. It was a direct hit.

-

As Varric had predicted, Danarius was caught off guard, but what he hadn’t foreseen was that the magister wavered only for a moment before regaining his balance. Despite Fenris’s reluctantly given information about the Magister, Varric hadn’t understood exactly how powerful the Tevinter mage, in fact, was. Luckily, though, Merrill had bought enough time with her impulsive action for both Hawke and Fenris to recover. The elf hauled his wife off the floor and pushed her in the direction of the door.

‘Go!’ he yelled persuasively. ‘Go, before you really get killed!’

Albran was still a little dazed and so she did his bidding without protest. All the time she had been half unconscious. She had heard the cruel things Danarius had said to Fenris, but hadn’t been able to act. She wanted to talk to him or, better, to hold him fast, but recognised this was not the time.  But once outside, after taken a few gulps of  the cool air, she decided the only way to pay the cold magister back was to go back inside.

She was definitely not going to leave her love, or their friends, alone with that abomination. She smiled nastily. Fenris might have called Anders an abomination on numerous occasions, but only now she was beginning to understand the true meaning of the word. After the encounter with Danarius, Justice seemed an adorable fluffy and cuddly little cony. That rotten magister took the term “abomination” to a whole new level. For starters he didn’t need a demon to be one. She determined she would confront Anders with his obtuse idea of letting magic loose on the world later. Not now. Now she had more pressing things on her mind and, to be honest, to be confronted with Anders was not a prospect she was enthusiastic about anyhow. She considered the option of running to the Keep to gather reinforcements, but forwent the idea. It would take too long.

Then her eye fell on the balcony leading to her bedroom. Hah, there was more than one way to get access to the house. And, moreover, in her bedroom she would find her spare daggers and ditto armour. She wasn’t finished with Danarius yet. She would let him pay for all the pain her Fenris had suffered under his hands.

Although it had been hard to follow what had gone on between Fenris and Danarius, because she had been struggling against the magic the magister had implied on her, she understood it had something to do with her lover’s history. Danarius had used a name and revealed facts that had made Fenris hugely upset. It wasn’t clear to her what precisely it had been about; she had hardly been able to catch a word in the state she had been in. But it was enough to apprehend it was bad. Very bad.

Danarius needed to die.

-

The six Tevinter guardsmen thundered into the parlour on just a twist of Danarius’s hand a moment after Varric, Isabela and Merrill had sprung into action. As a grim answer Fenris finally drew his sword.

‘You’re dead now,’ he promised the magister.

Danarius only smiled. He covered himself with a protective shield and watched with amusement how his pet and his accomplices tried to bring him and his soldiers down. His smile withered after his humans had perished in less time than he had calculated. But broadened once more after he had slit his wrist and summoned an amount of demons. He saw the desperate look in the eyes of his opponents. Skeletons and shades awoke and in the midst of the turmoil a powerful fiery rage demon appeared. 

Holding his ground in the middle of the havoc, Danarius stood strong, though he sensed the declining vigour of the demons he so much rejoiced in. His pet fought like a demon himself. He brought his foes down as if they were but puppies and kittens. For a moment he admired his creation but then decided he got bored. Time to put him and his friends down.

He raised his hands and he started to recite a powerful enchantment to end this nonsense. A little fun was fine, but this had already taken too much of his precious time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course it takes more than a stonefist to beat Danarius...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anders to the rescue... more or less.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 28

-

Marius couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked a few times but that didn’t help to bring the captured elf back. The secret hiding place stayed broken open and, worse, empty. He started to panic. No way Fenris had been able to do this by himself and there was only one other person who knew about the small cupboard-like hideaway. Gasping for breath he leant against the door-post while the consequences slowly got through. This meant not only that Fenris was on the loose and definitely wanted his blood, but also that Anders by now knew dangerously much about him; about his descent, his lies and undoubtedly about his mind magic. And would be wanting his blood as well.

A short moment hope flickered: what if those two had murdered each other ..? But he dismissed the ridiculous thought immediately. There should be two corpses to start with. When had Anders managed to ... he shook his head. Not important. His first impulse was to run back to the cave, gather his few belongings and flee the city. But where would he go? He forced himself to calm down and consider his options.

Since he didn’t have a giant death-wish, participating in the battle against the Templars was out of the question. Anders would kill him on the spot, and if _he_ didn’t, Fenris would. The elf would never forgive him what he made Anders do to the Champion, and neither would the healer. And yes, by now they’d know about that.

There were, however, other ways to seed chaos, which was, after all, his first and main goal. He wasn’t afraid the attack on the Gallows would be cancelled; besides the fact he didn’t doubt for one moment the already made agreement would be fulfilled, he was convinced Fenris would do everything possible to free his wife.

So, perhaps he’d better concentrate on the part of the nobility that despised Albran Hawke. If he could set them against the part that did support her, he could create another pocket of chaos. And the more chaos, the more the Tevinter army would have the chance to take over the city.

Nevertheless, that didn’t solve the problem of Fenris’s disappearance. He wasn’t sure how Danarius would react to the news, besides angry and disappointed. But if he played his part well, he could even turn this into his advantage. The capturing of the slave had never been his premier objective, but to his dismay he suddenly got saddled with his master. And at this moment simply the presence of Danarius _made_ Fenris his premium objective. He should be careful not to imply mind magic on the senator; he was fairly certain the man would look right through it and would take it very badly. He, however, could convince him he knew where his slave was hiding.

And in the meantime he could visit the nobles he knew that hated the Champion, to persuade them to take action against the three noble houses that so openly had chosen her side. And who knew, along the way he would manage to recapture Fenris. He smiled thinly and took a deep breath to steady himself. He hastened back through the cellars to the Amell estate.

And there he blundered into yet another surprise.

-

Hawke clambered onto the balcony and stole into her own bedchamber. For a moment she gasped when she took in the mindless destruction. When she had entered the house, she had noticed the devastation for a heartbeat, but had paid no further attention to it since Danarius had emerged out of the rubble and the blue. He had taken all of her attention. But now the actions of the Templars caught her eye. Even the bed had been torn apart; the mattress and pillows had been cut to pieces and one of the posters had been hacked in two. Immediately, though, she mentally shook herself. This was not the time to get angry or upset.

As she had expected, her hidden cache had stayed undiscovered and in there she found her spare armour and daggers, as well as a set of throwing knives and some potions. She donned the leather jerkin, gloves and greaves, fastening the buckles as quickly as she could. She even found a pair of boots to clad her bare feet. Sturdy boots.

Stealthily she crept onto the landing and her breath hitched when she looked at the scene in the parlour down below. It made her blood boil.

Merrill was leaning against the wall next to the entrance, only half conscious and all but spent. Isabela lay sprawled in the middle of the room and Varric sat motionless in a corner, Bianca cradled in his lap. Fenris was on his knees, panting heavily. He was covered with sweat and blood, an alarming amount gashing from a wound just above his temple, colouring his white hair red.

Hawke saw the magister wielding his wicked staff and she did not doubt he had hit her love already before with the weapon. Right now he raised it once more for a second blow.

-

But halfway the swaying arc he got interrupted.

‘I don’t think so,’ chanted a singsong voice, cutting him off abruptly.

And to his distress the feeble little she-bird stood with a stony expression that didn’t match the tone of her voice on the landing. She scowled at him and at the same time threw a knife at him he could just swat out of his way with his staff.

‘Perhaps I should have warned you I become a really nasty bitch when someone tries to harm my loved ones,’ Hawke said in that same chanting tone. ‘And especially when someone has the nerve to terrorize my husband.’

She threw the next knife and this time hit the magister in his forearm. She cursed under her breath; she had aimed for his throat. Throwing knifes had never been her speciality and now she wished she had paid that particularly skill more attention. But at least she had distracted Danarius.

Fenris looked up through his bloodied bangs and his eyes lightened up. ‘Albran!’ he croaked.

Danarius let out an amused but cold chortle. ‘How touching. The loving spouse comes to the rescue. I’m only afraid it won’t help either of you.’ He raised his protecting shield once more and her third and last knife bounced off it. In the meantime he used her second knife to slit deeper and with his blood a new wave of demons sprang from the opening to the Fade to pester them.

This time Albran cursed out loud. ‘That was _my_ knife! How dare you exercise blood magic with _my_ fucking knife!’ She raced down the stairs to help Fenris up. She passed him a healing potion which he downed in one gulp. ‘You should not be here,’ he said hoarsely.

‘Well, I am and you bloody well be grateful for it,’ she retorted. ‘I am the only one standing straight at the moment.’

She but just evaded the burning arm of a rage demon, but before it could hurt her, Fenris had impaled the creature on his sword. He was still sitting but now jumped up. ‘Help the others!’ he urged her.

She tossed a potion to Varric who deftly caught the small vessel and then she darted to Isabela. She hauled her up and forced her to drink to contents of the vial she pushed to her lips.

‘What took you so long, sweetness?’ The pirate smiled a bit weakly.

‘O, you know, I thought I’d wait just a little longer, for the dramatic effect.’ She dodged an incoming blow from a skeleton that savagely swung its primitive but vicious sword around and scattered the thing with a ferocious thrust. ‘I suppose Varric has that kind of effect on me.’

‘Ah, that’s what I imagined,’ Isabela smirked. ‘Your throwing talents may need some honing, though.’

‘Yes, yes, don’t remind me.’ Without turning she called, ‘Are you alright, Merrill?’

The Dalish elf pushed herself off the wall, invigorated by just Hawke’s appearance. ‘I’m fine,’ she called back. She heaved her staff and slapped a shade, that came too close, hard on the hissing head.

Hawke darted to Fenris who was fighting off two rage demons at the same time. His menacing sword sliced through one of them, but before he could finish it off, it disappeared with a mighty roar. She turned on her heels and lunged at a shadow she more felt than saw floating towards her at high speed. She spun around it while she kicked out backwards, spun again and cut its throat. With a mighty sway Fenris decapitated the second rage demon.

‘Whoa!’ she heard Varric shout. ‘Not good!’ The first rage demon materialised right before him and lashed out. But before it could do any harm, Merrill caught it in stone and the dwarf could kill it with a brutal volley.

But every time they thought they had slain the fiends, Danarius conjured up new waves of Fade creatures.

‘How long can he keep this up?’ Albran panted.

‘Long. Take it from me,’ Fenris said grimly.

-

Behind his protecting shield, though, Danarius was getting weary and anxious. He hadn’t counted on this much resistance, let alone had imagined his opponents would be this competent. They battled like an experienced unit who had fought numerous combats together. He didn’t dare to cut himself once more; he already had offered more blood than was wise. And he had no time to reach for a lyrium potion. His strength began to waver and his shield flickered. And, of course, his little wolf noticed. With determined strides and a feral grimace he came near.

Danarius realised death had never been this close.

-

The moment Marius exited the cellars, he knew something was badly wrong. The sounds of a fierce brawl came from the room where he had left Danarius and his soldiers, so he stalked cautiously to the entrance of the parlour and glanced around the door. His breath hitched and his eyes grew wide. He saw not only the renegade slave, but also Albran Hawke fighting demons. How was this possible?! How could he already have freed her?!

The next moment he witnessed Danarius staggering back, his shield crumpling and Fenris moving to him like a predator. For a tantalizing moment he considered abandoning the magister and to vanish before anyone had spotted him. But then he realised this was his big chance; not only to become a hero but also Danarius’s apprentice. The man would have no other choice after he saved him, and being attached to the most powerful magister and senator in Tevinter was a very attractive prospect. He slit his wrist. He was pretty certain summoning more demons was not a solution, but he could strengthen his mind magic with his blood.

He stepped into the room and with just a wave of his hand stopped Fenris from advancing. He would not be able to hold him for long, but it should be enough. After he had dealt with the Dalish elf, the dwarf and the pirate queen, who all three fell on the floor in a sudden attack of extreme exhaustion, he focused on Hawke.

Her face became blank, but after that frowned deeply; she was trying very hard to resist the applied mind magic but lost in the end. She had not Fenris’s resilience. He made her drop her daggers and walk like a struggling automaton in Danarius’s direction.

The magister quickly downed a lyrium potion and didn’t even look surprised at Marius’s actions. He stretched out his arm and pulled Albran close as if he held her on an invisible leash; when she was in his reach he grabbed her hair and forced her head back.

Fenris came back to life and wanted to storm his former master but Danarius’s voice stopped him. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ He held a small but razor sharp knife pressed against Hawke’s throat. A few ruby-red drops of blood welled up and slowly trickled down her skin. ‘I will let her live, but only if you come with me without resistance.’ He still wasn’t certain he wanted his former slave back, but at least he could make him compliant. If not by his direct commands, then surely by threatening to kill his wife.

At that moment Varric stirred. It was true dwarves weren’t completely immune to magic; they got much less affected, though. Through all the slithering and crackling magic he got up and without thinking shouldered Bianca. Fast as a viper Marius handled and a heartbeat later Varric lay down again.

But in that second Marius had to let his concentration slip of holding Albran. She reacted immediately and kicked the magister hard against his shin with her with iron shod boot. He cried out in pain and his grip lessened. She made use of the opportunity and broke free. She jumped out of his way and ran to the spot where she had dropped her daggers. Next she got hurled through the air and smacked against the wall.

‘Keep him in check,’ Danarius snarled at the younger mage, indicating Fenris who he but just could keep from assaulting him.

‘It’s not that easy,’ Marius protested. Nevertheless he managed to stop Fenris for the time being.

-

Carefully Anders walked over to the estate and tiptoed through the hallway. He risked a look into the parlour and what he saw chilled his blood. Only Fenris was still standing, but he stood rigid like a statue, clearly immobilized.

Justice shifted. _What are you waiting for?_

Anders shot out of his trance. ‘It would be refreshing if you would assist me for a change, instead of only berating me,’ he rumbled.

At the same moment that he entered the room, Danarius turned furiously to Fenris.

‘If I cannot take you with me, you will die here,’ he spat. ‘I can retrieve the lyrium from your corpse. I have no need for such a rebellious slave; you have tasted freedom for too long.’

He surrounded the elf with the same blue-white vines his body was imbedded with, activating the markings until they almost blinded the eyes. The parlour got drenched with the foul stench of blood magic and Anders almost stumbled, deprived of all his powers in one mighty blow. He couldn’t fight against this. This was too overwhelming. His own magic couldn’t battle with this. He never would stand a chance. He had never felt so frail and brittle in his entire life. He couldn’t even warn Justice; this was too much.

Fenris let out a tormented cry and made a heroic effort to get out of the way of the magister’s deadly hold, but he couldn’t move.

-

And then Justice stirred.

Or perhaps it was better to say that he erupted.

They had come across blood magic before, on numerous occasions in fact, but never it had been this strong and evil. Not even when they had found Fenris in the clinic. For the first time Justice encountered the actions of a Tevinter magister and it seemed he wasn’t very pleased with the outcome. Anders tried to rein him in but he stood no chance against the spirit’s unleashed sudden wrath. Justice all but took him over and there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Is this what I have been fighting for?’ Justice boomed. His voice thundered through the room, for everyone to hear this time. ‘Is this where the freedom of mages leads to?! **I will not tolerate this!!** ’

Anders felt him shake and twist through his whole body. He got a feeling as if he got kicked in the inside of his head, followed by a fierce tug which made him lurch and stumble.

With his mouth hanging open, he gawked at the scene that ensued.

He was not the only one. The four that had gone down, had in the meantime come to their senses, due to Justice’s deafening voice alone, and gaped in amazement at what happened before their very eyes.

A blue tornado twirled through the room and jumped Fenris, whose markings abruptly dimmed, using the elf as a springboard to get to Danarius. The whirlwind enveloped the magister and roared again, if possible with even more emphasis.

‘ **I will _not_ tolerate this!**’

The magister screamed and fell on all fours, his body twisting spasmodically.

Then, gradually, the blue apparition started to slow down, apparently its energy spent. Danarius stirred but Fenris hesitated not a moment to answer. Before anyone could come to their senses, Danarius included, he already reacted, driven by pure, unrefined hate. Nobody saw him move, but not an intake of breath later he hauled his former master onto his feet with one hand while the other one plunged into his chest, crushing his heart.

‘You are no longer my master!’ he growled with cold, though intense satisfaction. He let the lifeless body drop on the floor and in one fluent motion turned to Marius who tried to crawl away. He grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. ‘And you,’ he bit, ‘you will pay for what you have done.’

‘Don’t kill him!’ Hawke cried out. ‘He must have valuable information, he can be of use!’ She scrambled up her feet.

‘I know that,’ Fenris snarled into Marius’s face. ‘I don’t intent to kill him – yet.’ And he knocked the mage cold with one mighty punch.

He caught Albran, who almost tripped over her feet in her haste to reach him, in his arms and together they turned to watch Justice hovering above the dead magister. The spirit was slowly evaporating.

Anders could do nothing but stare at the entity that had been a part of him for so many years.

A soft voice filled the air. ‘I see now this world is no place for me. I never understood it and I never will. I must return to the Fade. Forgive me.’ And then Justice was gone.

Slowly Anders sank on the floor. He felt empty and liberated at the same time. His head seemed a vast open space. It made him dizzy and adrift and almost left him with agoraphobia. ‘I never realised how cramped it was, with Justice constantly elbowing my own thoughts,’ he murmured bewildered.

Varric hurried over to him and kneeled down at his side, preventing him from keeling over.

‘And Anders saves the day. Again,’ he said brightly, trying to cheer up the disorientated mage.

‘Actually, it was Justice,’ Anders replied, still dazed. ‘I thought that was obvious.’

‘Well, that was – interesting,’ Isabela reacted, sheathing her daggers. ‘I must say, I’m quite looking forward to meet the old Anders again. The mage with the nice electricity trick. We should go to the Rose soon. I mean, after all the distracting trouble is over, of course.’

Anders looked groggily at her, expecting Justice’s vile comment at any moment, but evidently all stayed quiet in his head. A slow smile unfolded on his face. ‘I can get drunk again,’ he mumbled with a heavenly expression. And then he passed out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so much liked the cheery, slightly rebellious Anders in the Awakening, and then they went and turned him into a whining mass murderer. For shame! So I decided to change him back. Hope you liked it.
> 
> Thanks for reading anyway!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris tries to cope with the situation and, of course is failing fabulously.
> 
> Anders, on the other hand, is having a ball. Again, more or less.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 29

-

Gently Varric laid Anders down on a relatively clean part of the floor and squatted next to him. ‘Blondie, buddy, are you still in there somewhere? Or have you taken off with that creepy spirit of yours?’

The dwarf sounded concerned. He tried to wake the mage up with soft slaps in the face but there came no response. Not even a flutter of eyelashes, not even a flinch. His head just lolled slightly with every touch and Varric gave up on his efforts, if only for the sinister look of the lifeless motions.

‘What just happened?’ Merrill piped up with a small voice, staring down puzzled at the healer. She felt mighty confused. That was usually her normal state of mind, but now it got amplified with all the strange and overpowering occurrences.

Isabela moved over to her and wrapped an arm around her small shoulders. ‘You saved Varric from a rage demon, Kitten, don’t you remember? And various other things seemed to have transpired afterwards. Like a storming in Anders, a blue whirlwind and a very dead Tevinter Magister.’

Merrill continued to stare befuddled at the motionless Anders. Isabela doubted she even had heard her.

‘Will he be alright?’

‘Of course he will, Kitten. I suspect the shock of suddenly having his mind back to himself was rather overwhelming. Give him some time to recuperate.’

‘You mean, that blue thing really was Justice? Has he abandoned him?’

‘Let’s hope he did. But perhaps you could fetch some water. To throw over him, or over yourself if you like, or perhaps to give him a few sips when he gets by.’ She deemed it better Merrill got something to do before she would break apart. Without protest the Dalish mage scuttled off, carefully picking her way to the kitchen through the debris and skirting the corpses of the killed soldiers and demons. She kept wearing that far-away baffled look.

‘Come on, Blondie, you’ve had your rest, time to wake up.’ This time Varric shook the mage’s shoulders but Anders still didn’t react. The dwarf shared a worried look with Isabela.

‘You don’t think Justice took him with him? Into the Fade, I mean?’ the pirate said hesitantly. ‘Would he be able to come back on his own?’

‘And how am I supposed to know? Do I look like a mage to you? I can only conclude he draws breath. So the only thing I _can_ state at this point is that he at least is not dead.’ Varric sounded fractious. ‘Though as far as I know, he might be in a coma and wakes up fifty years from now, wondering who that strange old man is that looks back at him from the mirror.’

Isabela sighed and hoped the best of it. It was difficult to cope with Varric’s -  whatever it was he tried to cope with and so she turned hopefully at the two other still living leading actors in the unexpected drama.

 

Albran was leaning against Fenris’s protective body. Her head was reeling with all the things that had happened in such a short time. Her look was fixed on Danarius. Finally she stuttered, ‘He ... he is dead.’

She knew she stated the obvious but she had to say it out loud to believe it for real.

‘In the end he found you and you killed him.’ She shivered. ‘He was, he was even more horrendous than I had imagined.’ Echoes of the words that monster had aimed at Fenris somehow resonated in her head though she couldn’t make any sense about what they had meant. But she knew it had been bad. Before Anders appeared. Justice had drowned out the gruel words about some fight in an arena -  about Fenris’s father –

All thoughts fled when the elf hauled her close in his arms.

Fenris drew her nearer; right now he needed her support as hard as she needed his. At this moment he could hardly comprehend what the death of his former master meant. He had been hunted for so long that it had become part of his essence, of his whole being. The paradox of it all was that he had allowed himself to marry the woman he had loved for so long, but whose love he at first had denied just for the danger this rotten piece of human being represented.

  _This also was due to Anders, or Justice_ he thought at first till he realised it had little to do with the healer but everything with Marius. He could hardly suppress a harsh laugh. _Speaking about irony._ He forced himself to focus on Danarius’s dead body and slowly it drove home he never had to fear him again. It was an alien feeling. It was too soon to feel relieved, let alone exalted. He was too dazed. And still, at the background of his mind, those images Danarius had evoked shimmered. _His mother. His father._ He took a deep breath. _Not now._

‘Yes, he was,’ he said softly, reacting to Albran’s words. ‘But now I’m finally free.’ _Free, for the first time in my life I am truly a free man._

‘But if it hadn’t been for Justice, I wouldn’t be standing here,’ he added. His voice quivered slightly. ‘None of us would.’

The memories Danarius had awoken kept swirling through his head. The voice of his mother, the death of his father, his real name... Sooner or later he would have to cope with them but, he decided, not now.

He was certain Albran had been too much under the influence of blood magic to grasp what had happened with him, and he was grateful for it. He would tell her, of course, but he could choose his moment. And this was not the right one, he was certain he would break apart if he’d brought it up. He took a quavering breath and squeezed her shoulder.

And, of course, there was that issue between – but she’d already solved that one, hadn’t she?

Albran shifted her wary gaze to Anders. Yes, she knew that what he had done to her had never been his intent. That he was pushed by mind magic. Nevertheless she felt uncomfortable, to put it mildly, to be confronted with him. She swallowed hard. Fenris fastened his grip even more, sensing her predicament. He shifted his attention from his memories to her. She was more important.

‘I still don’t really trust him,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘although, perhaps somewhat more now Justice has left him; time will learn how he will turn out without that spirit. But I know what you must feel. If you want to leave to avoid the confrontation just say the word.’

Hawke took a slow breath. ‘No,’ she decided, ‘I won’t run away from him. I must remember it was not him who raped me. Not really.’ Her eyes wandered over the knocked down unconscious body of the Tevinter mage. ’The real culprit lies there.’ She pointed at Marius and shivered. ‘You were right all along,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll never doubt your judgement again.’

Fenris smiled in her hair. ‘You’d better,’ he reacted playfully. The beating of his heart slowed down somewhat.

Hawke’s expression hardened. ‘Shouldn’t we bind him and gag him and do all sorts of other nasty stuff to him? He at least deserves a good kick in the groin department.’

Fenris chortled and felt his gloomy mood lift a little. ‘I don’t think mind magic is numbed by binding, gagging and depriving someone of the opportunity to produce offspring. But perhaps it is a good start. I suppose magebane will do the real trick.’

Hawke almost got sick again, just at the mentioning of the word magebane, and her eyes fluttered back to Anders, still lying motionless. She bit her lip.

‘I don’t want to judge him. I mean Anders; after all he saved your life. But it’s hard,’ she confessed, ‘even I know by now he didn’t want to do what he did.’

‘Of course it is,’ Fenris responded, caressing her back with short strokes.

Finally she relaxed and broke free from his tight embrace. ‘All right,’ she said, while straitening her shoulders. She was getting annoyed with herself. She was supposed to be the leader of this ragtag bunch, not some snivelling damsel in distress. ‘High time to stop bellyaching and do something. Let’s start with checking on Anders. If he doesn’t wake up soon, we will have to carry him to the Keep. I don’t think it’s wise to stay much longer in this house.’ She grimaced. ‘Or what’s left of it.’

Fenris just nodded and they walked over to where Varric was still vainly trying to get Anders back to the land of the living. They reached them at the same time Merrill arrived with the water Isabela had asked for.

To her relief the elf had found the kitchen more or less unscathed and she had been able to find a cup to put some water into, but now she was holding said cup somewhat awkwardly, not knowing what to with it.

Hawke raised a brow. ‘And what did you think to accomplish with that?’ She grinned. ‘I have a better idea. Isabela, I don’t doubt you have already found the newly hidden stash of strong liquor in the cellar. Do me a favour and dig up a bottle of Antivan brandy. That will be of better use.’

Varric shook his head. ‘You put me to shame, Hawke, I should have thought about that myself.’

When Isabela returned, Hawke emptied the cup she had taken from Merrill’s dithering hands and filled it with the brandy. She handed the cup to Varric who held it under Anders’s nose. Almost immediately the mage’s eyes flew open.

‘See,’ Hawke said happily, ‘works better than smelling salt.’

Anders sat abruptly up, snatched the vessel out of Varric’s hands and downed the contents with one big gulp. He stood up, swaying, grabbed the bottle the stunned pirate was holding, took another swig straight from the bottle and staggered to the first available wall. He slid down until he sat again, cradling the bottle close to his chest like it were a new-born baby. ‘Justice gone, get drunk,’ he mumbled. They all stared at him in astonishment.

‘He looks like a lost desert dweller who just in time found back his home oasis,’ Varric commented.

‘He looks more like a marbari with a bone to me,’ Hawke reflected, less poetically.

‘Do you think he will bite me if I tried to get the bottle back?’ the pirate queen asked uncertainly.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Hawke sniggered. ‘And as a bonus he’ll probably also growl and I’m sure a tap over the nose won’t help in this case. You’d better fetch another one. Believe me, I’m in as much need of a drink as you are right now.’

She wondered how much Justice had affected Anders during all the years he had harboured the spirit; if he would get back to his normal behaviour or forever would bear a scar. She knew for certain the death of Danarius wouldn’t solve Fenris’s issues with his past, so why would the disappearance of Justice help regain Anders his old character? His rather feisty character, if she could rely on Isabela. She remembered Anders once told he hadn’t given a rat’s arse about the mages’ plight before he invited Justice into his head, but it seemed unlikely he would return to that indifference, now the spirit had gone.

In the midst of her contemplations Anders slowly heaved his head. He wore a bemused expression, as if he was desperately attempting to find out what was going on, where he was, or even _who_. But then his bleary eyes became bright.

‘I’m finally free,’ he said

And it struck Hawke he used exactly the same words as Fenris had used, shortly previous.

‘A strange feeling but a damned good one,’ he continued.

Once more he took a large quaff straight out of the bottle, and then grabbed his head with his free hand.

‘Andraste’s flaming tits, it’s vast in here, like some cavernous – cavern.’ He looked at his fascinated audience. ‘What? Never seen someone getting de-spirited before? No? Neither have I. But let me tell you, it’s a better feeling than outsmarting the Templars by escaping their bloody Tower.’ He smiled heavenly. ‘Seven times.’

Then his eyes fell upon Albran and he deflated. The memory of that one stormy night came back and hit him like a brick. ‘Hawke ... I, er,..’ His mouth opened and closed several times and he was struggling for the right words. He found none. Nevertheless he made an effort.

‘There are no words to express how sorry I am for what I’ve done to you, I –‘

She came to his rescue.

‘No need to apologise, Anders, I understand.’ It was impossible to stay angry or ill at ease, seeing him in this state. He seemed like a lost puppy.

‘You do?’ His face lightened up a bit. ‘I don’t ask you to forgive me, but -‘

‘Stop it. I said I understood.’ She bit her lip, nervously. She threw a sidelong look at Fenris. The elf looked blankly back. Well, neutral at least. Close enough to a sort of thumbs up.

‘Let’s try, well, not to forget but to live with it.’ She gave Anders a brittle smile. ‘After all, it was your angelic apprentice who set it all into motion.’

This Anders was so different from the one who had so painfully misbehaved, all those months ago. _That_ Anders had acted completely uncharacteristically to start with. She still had difficulties with believing it really had been him who had violated her. Well, it hadn’t been him, not really. The one responsible lay knocked-out on the floor by her husband. And now Anders had changed again. It was impossible to stay angry with him, or even upset.

Anders nodded thankfully. He scrambled rather wobbly onto his feet. ‘I feel so light, it’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders,’ he sighed.

‘Yes,’ Varric grinned, ‘but the weight that’s lifted from your shoulders, you just poured down your throat. That’s another explanation for your, how shall I put it, lifted spirit.’

‘So all this time Anders _was_ there,’ beamed Isabela, who had returned with a new bottle. ‘And now I can speak to him.’ She was probably thinking of the amazing electricity trick Albran didn’t want to know about.

Anders took a few unsteady paces before Fenris rushed forward and caught his arm to prevent he would fall down.

Hawke’s brows shot into her hair. Fenris assisting Anders. Fenris. The one person who despised all mages and had hated Anders just a little less than he had hated Danarius. Assisting Anders. Without a thought. Automatically she reached for the bottle Isabela was holding and wordlessly the pirate handed it to her.

‘Will wonders ever cease,’ the pirate murmured under her breath, after a few moments of deep contemplation. Apparently she was as impressed as Albran.

‘Can I kick Marius? Hard?’ Anders greedily asked no-one in particular, although it seemed he sought Fenris’s permission.

Albran couldn’t help laughing out loud. ‘I see you have the same sentiment as I. You kick his ribs while I kick his manly parts?’

Anders looked up again and for the first time caught the awful mark on her forehead. He flinched forcefully. ‘O Hawke, what have they done to you?’

She shrugged. ‘Some kind of sick prank.’ She tried to make light of the situation.

Anders got rigid. ‘Sick prank? What have you gone through?!’

Fenris interfered, looking apologetically at his wife. ‘I think it’s best we pick up Marius and go to the Keep.’

Understanding she smiled at him. ‘I’m with you.’

But Anders grabbed her arm. ‘Let me at least try to heal that appalling spot.’

-

Aveline was getting nervous. Evening had fallen and still there was no sign of Fenris and his small horde. Let alone they had returned with Hawke. She clenched her fists; she never should have agreed with his bold and idiotic plan. She forced herself to stay calm and count her blessings. Some things were looking up; Lady Selbrech, Theodore of Wildervale and Philippe de Beaumont had returned to their expensive mansions, taking their irritating militia with them. To her immense gratefulness peace and silence had washed through the Keep after their departure. Word was, the Comte de Launcet and his followers had been present at the Gallows to witness the Champion’s death, and since that hadn’t happen, he was out for blood himself. The three nobles, and the ones that supported them, feared for the safety of their properties and families. Instead of hiding from Meredith’s wrath by filling the Keep, they now had decided their first task was to protect what was dear to them.

Their leaving was felt as an enormous relief, but Aveline was well aware of the new threat it represented. Besides the rioting citizens in Lowtown, she and her Guard would likely have to face a fight between the nobles. And she didn’t doubt for a moment it would be an outburst that had been simmering for centuries. So, a crushing outburst could be afoot; hidden behind icy polite words for ages but now bursting into the open as an exploding volcano.

So, in the end, nothing was looking up.

She had retreated to her own room in the barracks to find some peace; the former Viscount’s office was working on her nerves. She had needed some steady ground. But even that didn’t do much to ease her nerves. She looked at Donnic who was sitting opposite of her. He had just brought her a cup of coffee. She was about to ask him the stupid question of what to do now, when a knock came on the door. They looked expectantly at each other before she called out to whomever it was to come in.

To her surprise it was Keran.

The young Templar had thought it wiser to go himself, instead of sending someone else. He bowed lightly. ‘Captain.’

Aveline stood up, desperately trying to hold back her anxiousness but failing gloriously. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Has the freeing-Hawke-expedition gone askew? Is she dead after all? Is Fenris? Where are they?!’

Keran looked perplexed if not panicked. ‘No! The Champion is free, they fled through the secret passage ... are you saying they’re not here? I came only to tell you the gate to the Gallows’ courtyard will be opened for your forces at midnight...’

‘They are not here,’ Aveline snapped. She took in a sharp breath through her nose and shared an extremely troubled look with her husband.

She was at the brink of exploding when she heard a familiar voice.

‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Captain Man Hands, we’re safe and sound. But you’re not going to believe what has happened.’

She fell down in her chair; she had never been more happy and relieved to hear the pirate wench. She almost wanted to cry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaos all around, well, in the make anyway. Stay tuned!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning in advance: things will get hot and heated.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 30

-

Aveline, trying to take control,  had stood up again and glared darkly at Isabela who came sauntering into the Guard Captain’s office. To her dismay she was waving a bottle around that undoubtedly contained some strong liquid. That she was overly happy to see the wench, didn’t mean she was overly happy to be _confronted_ with her. And her antics.

‘What happened? What took you so long?’ she demanded to know with a harsh voice.

‘Easy, big girl, all in good time. Though I think you’ll need a good swig of this before we start explaining. To soften the shock.’ And Isabela put the bottle on the desk, but not before she had drunk a generous amount of the liquid herself.

Aveline’s eyes grew wide when she saw Anders being helped into her office by no other than Fenris. The mage was leaning heavily into the elf and wore an expression of utter confusion. Or of total drunkenness. She couldn’t decide yet. The look in Fenris’s eyes, however, told her not to comment, not even to voice the tiniest hint. And she was wise enough to heed that silent advice.

Only then she noticed the elf’s face was bloodied, but before she could ask anything about it, her mouth fell open with even more bewilderment when the unlikely pair got followed by Hawke and Varric, carrying between them ... Marius??

‘Damn it, Daisy, I wish you knew a levitation spell, this dude is heavy,’ the dwarf complained, panting.

‘I keep telling you, Varric, that kind of spell is only used for flying carpets and we don’t have those in Thedas,’ Merrill replied sweetly. ‘Those only exists in fairy tales.’

’Fine,’ Varric grumbled, ‘we have arrived anyway. On one Hawke. One.’ And they both let go of the body that smacked on the floor with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Hawke smiled at the Guard Captain who observed the other woman also was splattered with blood. One hell of a fight it must have been, down in the Gallows’ dungeons. Apparently things hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

‘Hello Aveline. Sorry we’ve kept you waiting for so long, but, well, something happened. More than one something, actually.’ Albran grimaced. ‘And we need magebane. Heaps of it, in fact, before this son of a bitch starts to perform his nasty little trick again.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Aveline said, lifting her hand. She pointed at Anders. ‘Why did you bring him here? And what happened to him?’ She sounded pretty hostile. The mage might have been manipulated by Marius, but she never would forgive him how he had made her complete Guard look like utter fools by escaping; let alone she’d forgive him for what he had done to Hawke.

‘Ah,’ Hawke said with a little smirk, ‘you could say his mind is one big rattle and hum at the moment. And swimming in vast voids, now Justice has run back to the Fade with his tail between his legs.’ Aveline stared blank-faced at her and Hawke gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Perhaps you better sit down for this one.’

But, of course, the Guard Captain stubbornly kept standing.

When Hawke was done telling, though, Aveline pensively scratched the back of her neck. She could, in fact, hardly suppress a small amused grin.

‘Let me get this clear; after saving Fenris from Danarius, Justice has on his own accord returned to the Fade.’ She let out a short barking laugh and turned to the elf and the mage. ‘So, one might state you two freed each other. Maker, what a hoot!’

Fenris shot her a murderous glare and she became serious again. She pointed at Marius. ‘And that lowlife has instigated it all? Is Danarius the reason why he is in Kirkwall?’

While Albran was relating what had transpired, Fenris had led Anders to the chair Donnic had abandoned at their entrance, and planted the mage on the piece of furniture. He was just in time to snatch the bottle out of his hands before he could take another gulp. ‘I think you’ve had more than enough,’ he hissed. ‘Time to sober up.’

Now Anders looked up. ‘No,’ he reacted to the Guard Captain’s remark, ‘I know for sure there’s more to it, though I don’t know what. He never told me.’

At that moment Hawke remembered what Thrask had revealed to her, while he had escorted her back to her prison, what part the First Enchanter had played.

‘He is here because Orsino has sent a letter to the Tevinter senate,’ she told them calmly, although she felt upset again, now she spoke the news out loud, and she expected the others to feel the same. ‘And it appears that the senate sent the weasel in return.’

All heads turned to her, all faces wearing a dumbfounded expression.

‘And you thought this piece of information wasn’t important enough to share with us sooner?’ Varric said, sounding hurt.

‘Well, excuse me, Serah Storyteller, but I believe we were mighty occupied with fighting Templars, demons and Magisters; it escaped my mind.’

Aveline decided to sit down after all.

‘How – intriguing this information might be, it still tells us nothing about Marius’s plans. How long will he stay unconscious?’

Fenris shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I hit him hard but I don’t know how thick his scull is.’

‘Magebane,’ Albran insisted, ‘I’m not going to confront that snake without the stuff; his mind magic is too dangerous.’ She snorted sarcastically. ‘At this moment a Templar could come in handy. That son of a bitch named Mettin should better have put his effort in silencing _him_ , instead of me.’

Aveline squinted at her. What she first had considered a bloody smear, half hidden behind her unruly hair, suddenly seemed something completely different. ‘What is that on your forehead, Hawke?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Can’t you tell? It’s the sun shining out of my brain because I’m such a radiant character,’ Albran mocked.

‘Damn it Hawke! Don’t tell me they branded you –‘

‘Yes, that’s exactly what the morons did. Anders tried to heal the burn but it is a persistent mark. It will always remain a scar, although he reassured me it will fade due time. A nice reminder of the Templars’ abuse of power.’

They all expected a heated declaration from Anders but the mage stayed quiet. When he felt their stares upon him, he irritably waved his hand.

‘What? You’re waiting for me to say something like “Templars are fucking bastards who don’t know how to handle their bloody far too extended authority”? I thought that was clear by now. No need to state the obvious.’ In the confusion that followed his words, he managed to steal the bottle back from Fenris.

Hawke laughed. ‘It will take some time to get used to the absence of Justice. For all of us, I presume.’

Anders uttered something unintelligible while downing the draught of brandy.

‘Shall I get some magebane?’ Donnic asked and Aveline was grateful for the diversion. She shifted her gaze to her husband and nodded.

‘And rope and shackles. I want to keep that Tevinter creep here where I can guard him personally. We have to interrogate him the moment he wakes up.’ She turned to the others. ‘You better clean yourselves up. You look, and smell by the way, as if you made a try at wiping out all the gangs in Kirkwall in one grand swipe. With the addition of some dragons’ nests.’

‘Wish that were true,’ Albran mumbled. ‘Would have been a nice stroll in the park, compared to what we have actually done.’

The Guard Captain shot her a little smile. ‘Hawke, you and Fenris can make use of the former Viscount’s quarters. I believe it contains a rather large bath. You’ll like it.’

‘I’ll stay here, so I can guard that piece of shit with you,’ Anders said with a sudden demonic glint in his eyes. ‘And in the meantime I can study the books I brought with me to see if there’s anything useful in them to fight mind magic.’

Aveline raised her brow and wanted to decline. But then she remembered Justice had taken his leave. This new Anders could come in handy and, besides that, she wanted to know him better before she convicted him. It seemed Hawke more or less had accepted him; she could at least try the same.

‘Er, Champion, Guard Captain?’ a timid voice chimed.

From a corner of the room Keran finally dared to put in a word and went red when he found all the attention focused on him. He took up courage.

‘I was sent here by Knight Captain Cullen to inform you that the assault on the Gallows will take place at midnight. This night. Ser Thrask has already joined the Underground mages and the Captain, er, former Captain, is in the dungeons, waiting for the Templars and the Circle mages to gather down there. They will attack from down below. I will open the gates to the Gallows’ Courtyard, so the Guard can make use of that entrance.’

Anders stood at once and put the bottle on the desk with a determined bang. He only swayed a little. ‘In that case I will go to meet Thrask and MUM.’ He gave Aveline a charming smile. ‘I’m afraid my books and our shared guarding will have to wait a little longer. My lady. I mean, Captain, Ser.’ He bowed slightly and disappeared through the doorway.

Aveline stared after him, hugely taken aback. ‘Are you sure that was Anders?’ she muttered. ‘I mean, our Anders?’

Varric beamed. ‘You have just met the new Anders. Or the old one, to be precise. I recommend you get used to him.’ After some contemplation he added, ‘I rather like him.’

Albran gave Keran a bright smile which made him blush some more. He remembered all too well he had taken more than a generous peek at her hardly concealed breasts, before he had run off to fetch her some clothing. For the same reason he persistently avoided looking at Fenris.

‘Tell Cullen we will be in the dungeons at midnight. I wouldn’t miss that fight for the world. Aveline, can you guarantee your Guards will be ready to storm the Gallows at that time?’

The Guard Captain blinked. She hardly could believe the woman, who had gone through so much this same day, stood firm and made decisions she herself should make. ‘Of course we will be there,’ she mumbled. Then she straightened her back and flashed her eyes. ‘But first you are going to make use of that bath and eat something, damn it. You can’t start a battle on an empty stomach.’

-

‘That is not a bathtub. That’s a swimming pool,’ Albran said in awe. They stood just over the threshold of the large bathing room, taking in the enormous copper tub that already had been filled with hot steaming water. It was adorned with patterns of grapevines and stood on four legs in the form of lion paws. ‘The Viscount must have got lost in there; a sheer wonder he didn’t drown before the Qunari got the chance to decapitate him.’

Fenris tilted his head. He smirked. ‘It’s not our lake at the Wounded Coast, but it’ll do.’

Hawke started to unbuckle her armour. ‘Ugh, Aveline is right, I stink. A lovely melange of dungeon aroma and the smell of demon blood. High time to wash it off.’

Not moments later she sank with a sigh of deep contentment in the warm water and ducked under. When she surfaced again, Fenris had already joined her. She lightly rested her hands upon his shoulders. ‘Come, let me wash your hair,’ she said, reaching for a bottle standing on a marble side table close to the bathtub, that was heaped with luxuriously looking bottles, flacons and pots. After she had rinsed the blood out of his locks, she softly started to massage his scalp which earned her a pleased hum. Her hands descended to give his shoulders the same treatment while she kissed his neck and delicately nibbled his ears.

He turned her in his arms and drew her close in an almost crushing embrace. He was still chock-full with emotions and it became only worse, now everything that had happened this day got through to him. The mere thought of what that Templar had tried to do to her sickened him. What Danarius had had in store for her infuriated him to the brink of combustion. What he had told him about his past – no that was still too tender and too confusing. This was still not the time. Better to concentrate on the real occurrences. That was difficult enough. ‘I made a pledge to protect you and I failed,’ he croaked.

‘No,’ Albran protested. She had feared this. ‘If I hadn’t insisted on that ridiculous wedding celebration, none of this would have happened.’ She traced his deep frown with the pad of her finger in an attempt to smooth it.

He cupped her face and silenced her with a desperate kiss.

‘Please, love,’ he said, ‘Meredith was set on getting you in her clutches, Danarius was after me; they both would have found a means to have their way, with or without the wedding. Stop blaming yourself.’

‘Perhaps, but –‘

He kissed her again to smother new objections. He felt his arousal building fast and the kiss turned form silencing to heated and urgent. She surrendered without a complaint and opened her mouth for him. He let his tongue entangle with hers while his hands stroked and kneaded the skin and muscles of her back. ‘I said, stop that nonsense,’ he whispered hotly and his breath drifted over her throat.

‘Which nonsense?’ she murmured. ‘You call this nonsense?’

 He chortled throatily and his lips travelled downwards; he sucked the crook of her shoulder, making her groan. Without hesitation she crawled on his lap and straddled him, not paying any attention at all to the water that sloshed over the edge of the bath, due to her move. He enfolded her breasts and buried his face between them and then trailed his tongue over her wet, soft flesh until he found a nipple to worship.

Her breath hitched and she basked in the feeling of want he was feeding with his action. She rubbed her swollen pearl a few times against the smooth tip of his erect shaft, and then caught his hard member with one movement between her thighs. He slid easily into her core until he completely filled her. They both closed their eyes and he clasped his fingers in her hips while she held with one hand on to his shoulder while the other clutched his wet hair.

‘I love you, great gods I love you,’ he groaned. This time _she_ kissed _him_ to prevent him speaking out words she didn’t wanted to hear right now. She didn’t want him uttering his feelings of guilt and remorse; she only wanted him to give evidence of his love for her. While she kept kissing him she budged slowly, answering to the movements of his hands, lifting and lowering her hips until she couldn’t take the slow pace anymore and set a wilder rhythm. She felt his fingers tighten. They would leave blue stamps and she couldn’t care less.

Her lips travelled to his shoulder and caressed his wet skin. She was close to weeping; after the horrible and testing challenges they had had to face today, this felt more than a compensation or reward. It felt like coming home. By this time they had managed to create some kind of deluge, but they didn’t even notice it.

They reached their height simultaneously with a loud cry, and in the middle of the wild waves they created, they rode out their combined peak. Finally Albran let her head fall on Fenris’s shoulder.

‘I was so scared I lost you,’ she confessed, ‘so scared he would win.’

‘But he didn’t,’ he said softly, ‘and we never have to fear him again.’ And the sudden exultant look in his eyes and the immense tender way his lips brushed hers, told all about how the true meaning of that statement finally hit home.

-

A voice sounded in the door opening. ‘Guard Captain?’

Aveline cursed inwardly. _Maker’s hairy balls. Great. Just what I needed._ She turned and nodded stiffly. ‘Your Grace,’ she gritted. ‘To what do I own this honour?’

‘May I come in?’

_Why not, make my already difficult and muddled up day_ , she thought sourly. Instead she said with a forced smile, ‘Of course.’

Grand Cleric Elthina stepped into the office, followed by a still grumpy Sebastian and two Templars who were no doubt her personal bodyguards. The two men looked uncomfortable. Probably they realised that being a Templar visiting the Keep in these turbulent times, wasn’t very recommendable. At first Aveline indeed wanted to voice her disapproval at their presence. Loudly. But then her look shortly fell on Marius, still lying unconscious ( _the elf must have struck him ferociously,_ she thought), though in the meantime bound and gagged and unceremoniously dragged into a corner. Those Templars could come in handy. She turned her attention back to the Grand Cleric. ‘Please take a seat. And what can I do for you?’

‘I know you are a busy woman, Guard Captain,‘ Elthina started while she sat down in the chair opposite the desk, ‘nevertheless I thought it important to speak with you about the current tensions.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I deeply regret what has happened, especially the fact Meredith had taken the Champion captive. But don’t you think the way of freeing her was a rash and reckless action? It will only increase the friction with the Templar order, I’m afraid. Perhaps you’d better let me handle the problem.’

Aveline scowled at her, incredulously and furiously beyond limits. And then she burst out, all her anger and annoyance surfacing in one big go.

‘You mean like you have handled the matter up until now?’ she growled angrily. ‘Because, as we all have witnessed, that has gone brilliantly!’

Before Elthina, or Sebastian, for that matter, could react, Aveline took a deep breath and continued, ‘You could have raised your voice against Meredith ages ago, you could have stepped forward, also ages ago, you could have warned the Divine, and again, ages ago. With other words: you could have done all sorts of useful things, but instead you did nothing. Nothing! You just hid in your temple, prayed to you precious, completely deaf Andraste and let everything happen! If it had been for you, if there hadn’t been others who weren’t too afraid to take action, Albran Hawke would have been whipped to death as we speak! If Fenris hadn’t decided to rush to her rescue, she would have been raped and most likely been dead as yet!

‘What will it take to get it through to you that Meredith has gone completely and irrevocably insane and nothing will stop her from destroying this city? That we have no other choice than to fight her and bring her down to save Kirkwall? After the awful mess with the Qunari, I knew already you were incompetent but this infinite naivety and blindness leave me speechless,’ she spat, rather contradictory to her furious rant.

Sebastian’s eyes flared with indignant rage but before he or Elthina could react, Brennan came storming into the office. ‘Captain! A fight has broken out!’

Aveline grunted exasperated. ‘Not this again. Where now?’

Wide-eyed the Guardswoman panted, ‘This one is different, Captain. The nobles have started a battle, in the middle of the Estate district!’

‘Fucking hell!’ Aveline swore harshly. ‘Cursed nobles with their bloody feuds! As if we haven’t enough on our hands already! Get Donnic. Tell him to gather a complement of ten Guardsmen. We must check this madness before it becomes a total chaos!’ She pointed sharply at the Grand Cleric, who looked completely bewildered. ‘You stay here,’ she snarled, ‘before you do even more harm by interfering.’ And she hurried off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading1


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aveline, angry and all, is having a field day.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 31

-

In the chill air of the autumn night and with a small battalion of ten Guardsmen in her wake, Guard Captain Aveline was angrily marching through Hightown to the place where the nobles had clashed. Very soon she could hear the sound of heated shouting voices, but to her relief there rang no clatter of crashing weapons yet.

When she rounded the corner to the square where both Philippe de Beaumont and Guillaume de Launcet had their expensive residences, she saw a large group of armed people gathered. Or rather two groups, facing each other and yelling insults and accusations. In the light, cast by many lit iron lampposts, she discerned the two noblemen. Be it that the Comte was cowering behind his militia and de Beaumont stood in front of his, flanked by Marlein Selbrech and Theodore of Wildervale.

Standing opposite of them was Edgert de Montfort, nicknamed the Hound, who had taken position together with two other nobles Aveline couldn’t recognise because they wore helmets with closed cheek patches. It bothered her highly to see de Launcet and de Montfort at the same side, be it the one at the back and the other at the front of their combined troops. As far as she knew, they had always been sworn enemies and if they had made a pact in these turbulent times, that was a bad sign. She decided to ignore it for now.

‘In the name of the City Guard I command you to stop this nonsense!’ she bellowed. ‘Break up this meeting and return to your homes!’

Edgert de Montfort turned to her and scoffed, ‘And on whose authority do you act?’

‘On mine,’ Aveline snarled nastily, ‘and if you won’t obey this very instant, I will not hesitate to arrest you on the spot and introduce you to the wonderful luxury of the Keep’s prison cells.’

De Montfort let out a hollow sardonic laugh. ‘And how do you think to accomplice that?’ He gestured around. ‘As you can see, I have quite a lot more men than you do. You’re threats are feeble and worthless. Crawl back into the hole you came from, little grey mouse, and let the real people, the people that count, settle this matter.’

In an instant white-hot fury seethed through Aveline’s system, replacing the annoyance that had been there. It was one thing the bastard acted like the rude arrogant snobbish noble he was, but to use that disparaging phrase, undoubtedly copied from Meredith, was too much. With three angry determined strides she was upon him. Without spilling a word she knocked him down with a vicious left hook and put her sword, drawn within an inimitable fast motion, on his unprotected throat.

He clearly hadn’t expected this and from his crouched position he looked completely dumbfounded back in her seething green eyes. In just one short moment he had been humiliated to the bone. He tried to get up but the Guard Captain didn’t remove her blade one inch and almost skewered his artery without batting her lashes. It seemed she was just waiting for the slightest provocation to kill him. Too late he realised she was much more powerful and dominant than he had thought she’d be, and he should not have challenged her. And then it got even worse.

‘I’m totally fed up with the attitude of the likes of you,’ Aveline hissed, menacing. ‘Instead of working together to find a solution for the crisis that has this city in its grip, you try to find a way to divide our forces, driven by your stupid pride and honour, and only to obtain more power. You sicken me.’ Without turning her head she called out to her lately promoted Guard Lieutenant, ‘Brennan, clap this idiot in iron. And better gag him too, before he spits more venom.’

With malicious glee, wrapped in stoic obedience, the Guard Lieutenant did her superior’s bidding.  Even before the Hound could utter another insolence or protest, he was neutralized.

The two nobles that had stood beside the famed, but now so easily incapacitated de Montfort, had already cowardly shrunk back into the lines of the militia. The Comte de Launcet, on the other hand, came vehemently pacing towards her. Aveline got almost overtaken with the ferocious courage he radiated. She hadn’t expected this from someone hiding behind his men, and she almost admired him for his action.

‘You can’t do this!’ he squeaked. ‘You have no right!’ He nearly surpassed her, but just in time she remembered who she was and why she was here.

She eyed him with malice and growled, ‘I have all the right in the world; and if you don’t shut up, I’ll imprison you as well. I know you were present when our deranged Knight Commander ordered the Champion being whipped to death. To witness and agree with such an illegal sentence makes you an accomplice. You should be glad I haven’t yet knocked you down as I have your new found friend.’

‘She is a traitor!’ the Comte screamed, not heeding her words, as was expected. ‘Just as that knife eared husband of hers! I saw the evidence!’

Aveline tried not to explode but failed. ‘Neither of them are traitors, you hare-brained idiot!’ she spat. ‘Or do you think Meredith wouldn’t hesitate one second to forge that so called evidence she showed you?! Even you must understand by now she has lost it completely!’ She noticed the nervous flicker in the man’s eyes and wondered if he had seen it too. ‘No sound person gets such insane red glowing eyes.’

‘They have insulted my daughter,’ de Launcet doggedly went on, although he recognized the Guard Captain’s words and remembered all too well Meredith’s creepy eruption. But he had chosen to disregard the disturbing experience. ‘I demand retribution.’

The next moment his ears rang with the ferocious whack the Guard Captain dealt him. ‘You pathetic excuse for a man,’ she snarled. ‘Disappear into your house and don’t trouble me again.’ And with squinted eyes she added, ‘And call Fenris, or any other elf, knife ear one more time, and I will skewer you on the spot.’

In the meantime, the militia on both sides shuffled nervously with their feet, their glances shifting between their commanders and the infuriated Guard Captain who had effortlessly put down one of their most influential leaders. As the cutthroats the most of them actually were, many of them had encountered her wrath before, and they weren’t eager to be confronted with it again.

In the awkward silence that had fallen, Lady Selbrech spoke and her voice rang out as clear as a bell. She sounded anxious. ‘Guard Captain Ser, you’re not trying to say the Champion is dead...?’

Aveline reacted fractiously. ‘No, of course not. In fact, she has been liberated and is safely in the Keep. Now tell me what is going on here.’ She was grateful Marlein Selbrech had addressed her by her formal title, not out of vanity but because she hoped it would lessen the tension, now that a noblewoman paid her rank due respect.

Marlein Selbrech pointed at the floored and cuffed de Montfort. ‘That dog let a firebomb throw into my house. It killed one of my servants and wounded two others severely. I could not let that pass.’

‘You’re certain he was the instigator?’

‘The letter delivered shortly after made that very clear,’ Lady Selbrech grimly said. ‘It told that this was the way he and his allies would deal with the ones who sided with conspirators and stood up against the Knight Commander.’ She still looked appalled.

Aveline grunted frustrated. ‘And the thought of going to the Guard to report that crime never crossed your mind?’

But before the other woman could answer, an ominous fast swelling noise of worked up voices rang out, shortly followed by the sound of breaking glass and wood being crashed. And then a fierce whoosh of ignited and exploding fire reached their ears. Alarmed, Theodore of Wildervale cried out, ‘That’s at the Harrimann’s!’

Aveline grimaced mirthlessly. ‘On me, all of you scum!’ she yelled to the uncomfortable looking militia. ‘It seems you will have to fight an angry mob tonight, instead of each other. But then again, what’s the difference.’

-

Donnic was nervously watching the Grand Cleric. He didn’t know what Sebastian had passed on to her of Aveline’s strong views about the woman and how said woman had taken it, but that didn’t matter anyhow after his wife’s angry outburst, did it? In his heart he agreed with her, but at the same time he wished she had been more diplomatic. It didn’t help much to antagonize the highest representative of the Divine in Kirkwall. Thankfully, the woman seemed to have swiftly recovered after her first evident shock, at least outwardly. She regarded him with an almost unsettling friendly expression. He cleared his throat. ‘Can I get you something, your Grace? A cup of tea perhaps?’

She smiled at him. ‘A cup of tea would be nice.’

Donnic decided to provide for the tea himself, if only to get away from the too affable Grand Cleric, whose mellow look got counterpointed by Sebastian’s still angry glare. He turned to the two Templars. ‘Keep a strong eye on him,’ he said, indicating the still unconscious Marius, ‘and if the culprit awakes, make sure he doesn’t use mind magic.’

After he had fled his wife’s office, he stumbled to his surprise upon Anders in the barrack’s hallway on his way to the kitchen. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you had rushed off to the sewers.’

The mage grabbed his arm. ‘I’m looking for Aveline. Urgently.’ He panted violently as if he had run all the way back from the sewers to the Keep. It probably didn’t add to his stamina he had downed half a bottle of brandy before the exercise.

‘She’s not here; she’s trying to prevent, er, some noble riot. What’s the hurry?’

Anders desperately attempted to catch his breath. ‘I suppose you will do as well; after all, you are her deputy. Alright, here’s the thing: in all the excitement and confusion I forgot to mention something that might be important. Yesterday, at the Wounded Coast, I saw a ship hiding between those rocky pinnacles rising out of the sea and she was definitely no merchant vessel.’

Donnic’s eyes grew wide. ‘A dreadnought??’ The threatening promise that the behemoths would return, the same promise the Arishok had uttered in his dying moments, sprang clearly into mind. It would definitely be some kind of superlative to all the turmoil they already had to face.

Anders caught his anguish and tried to put him at ease. Some ease. ‘I am almost positive she wasn’t a Qunari warship, but whatever she was and which country sent her, I still think it’s strange she was anchored there, I mean, where she couldn’t be spotted. At any rate it is suspicious.’

Donnic thought for a moment. ‘It could be the ship on which Fenris’s previous master What’s-his-name arrived. I figure he didn’t make the trip from Minrathous to Kirkwall on foot. But you are right, this could be important. I’ll immediately send out a scouting party. One can never be too sure.’ After a short contemplation he added, ‘Thank you for coming all the way back to tell me.’

‘No sweat.’

Anders wanted to leave but once more turned back. ‘Wait a minute; my mind is still a bit fuzzy, but did I hear correctly you said something about a noble riot?’

Donnic sighed. ‘Yes. It seems the high-bred pride and feuds finally have boiled over.’

The mage burst out laughing. ‘So, the snobs got in each other’s hair like the first low-class gangs in Lowtown; that must be a sight to behold! I wonder what kind of insults they are shouting back and forth. I guess it goes something like: “I say, your father is a descendant of a woman of questionable reputation”. “Au contraire, mon cher pauvre ami, _your_ father must have had intercourse with a vile and fiendish courser of the female persuasion”.’ He imitated the affected accent of both the Kirkwall and Orlesian nobility so well that Donnic couldn’t help but also laugh. ‘A pity I don’t have the time to witness Aveline handle those swollen-head prigs. I hope this doesn’t mean we have to postpone the attack on the Gallows ..?’

Donnic, though almost dizzied by the mage’s torrent of words, shook his head reassuringly. ‘She has taken only ten Guardsmen with her, more than enough to restore the order. We have enough men left to be present at the Gallows’ gates at midnight, don’t you worry.’

‘Good. I would have hated to disappoint the Mage Underground.’ Anders grinned broadly at the Guardsman before he ran off again.

Donnic stared after him in bemusement. This was indeed a totally different Anders than the one he had come to know. Then he pulled himself together and went to organize the scouting party and to let someone else take care of the tea for Elthina.

-

As Aveline already had anticipated, the house of the Harrimann’s was the target of an insolent group of thugs from Lowtown who had drank too much to think clearly. Undoubtedly they had found their courage to attack an estate in Hightown in a drunken stupid brainwave, fed not only by imbibing high amounts of alcohol but also by the instable situation the city found herself in. They bore no grudge against the family as such; most likely it was the first estate they came across and found suitable to demolish. The battle, if it could be called that, was fierce but short. In fact it was more like a skirmish. The militia might existed out of more or less the same material as the angry mob, but they were definitely better trained. Most of the crooks fled before much damage was done, leaving the dead behind as they were used to. But this time they hadn’t even troubled themselves with the wounded, which was a clear sign things were indeed very wrong. Besides that, never before, at least not since a long time, gangs had ascended from Lowtown to pester Hightown with their presence. It worried Aveline but she had little time to mull over the problem.

She made an effort to calm down the inhabitants of the offended household by telling them she would post guards around their estate – where she would find the reinforcements she didn’t know, but she would have promised anything to end the hysterical mood – and to calm down the nervous and excited members of the militia. She sneered at the present nobles that the men were their responsibility, but in the end she saw no other solution than to take all of them to the Keep, including the nobles themselves, dragging the still cuffed and gagged Edgert the Montfort with them.

It would prove to be a prudent solution, with all the events about to knock on the door.

-

Fenris walked over to Albran who was standing before the large mirror in the flooded bath chamber, busy pinning up her long hair so it wouldn’t hinder her vision in the battle to come. He hadn’t put on his armour yet and was still half naked. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her exposed neck. ‘Promise me you won’t die,’ he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. ‘I want to grow old with you and have lots of little babies.’

Startled Hawke dropped a hairpin and let out an amused chuckle. ‘ _Lots_ of babies no less! And how many exactly did you have in mind?’

‘I don’t care, as long as they all look like you,’ he hummed. ‘We can’t go wrong with that.’`

 His mother’s voice still silently knocked on the standing ajar door of his memories, but he managed to shut it out. He wanted to let her in, but she was a part of that other disturbing remembrance of how his father had died and that he couldn’t cope with. Not yet. It probably would take a long time to come to terms with that. He didn’t want to shut Albran out, but the grave matter they had to handle soon gave him no room to bring it up. They would need all of their strength and concentration to battle Meredith and her Templars. They didn’t need a diversion so disturbing as what Danarius had stirred up. He took a shivering breath to even out his emotions and welcomed Albran’s pure and loving reaction.

She turned in his arms and he took advantage of her movement with catching her lips in a scorching kiss. She whimpered when his tongue entangled with hers and his hands slipped under her shirt and started to rove over her body, leaving glowing traces on her bare skin. He pushed her even closer and she could feel his new arousal pressing against her, rekindling hers. She groaned when he firmly grabbed her buttocks and she delved her fingers in the taut muscles of his back and shoulders.

But before they could take it any further, an impatient rap came on the door. ‘I know you’re in there and I know what you’re doing,’ Isabela shouted, ‘but there’s no time for such frivolities! Hurry up before we miss all the other fun!’ After a short pause she let follow, ‘Unless, of course, you let me participate.’

‘No!’ they both yelled back.

Fenris sighed annoyed, and unwillingly let go of her. ‘I suppose we will have to postpone this till after the battle.’ _As some other pressing items..._

Albran, unknowing of his inner fight, giggled and kissed him lightly on his nose. ‘I’m sure it won’t take long,’ she said positively.

-

An hour later they stood in the covert passage, close to the entrance of the Gallows’ dungeons. They were accompanied by their friends – even Sebastian – Ser Thrask, the members of the Mage Underground Movement.

And by Anders.

It wasn’t clear yet if the latter could be counted as a friend again, but that wasn’t important right now. The tension was thick while they waited for Cullen’s sign to start the attack.

-

On the other side of the hidden entrance Cullen watched tensely while the Templars and Circle mages, belonging to Thrask’s secret organisation, one by one came trickling in. He still couldn’t grasp fully what he was about to do. Attacking his own order; it was an almost unfathomable idea. But he understood all too well it was the only way to restore the peace and stability, how contradictory it might sound.

He knew that, at this very moment, Keran was sneaking to the gates of the courtyard where the City Guard, completed by Lady Selbrech, Theodore of Wildervale and Philippe de Beaumont with their militia, were waiting to be let in. The moment the young Templar would return to him, was the moment to open the entrance and start the fight. He sighed deeply and whole-heartedly and wished it was all over.

-

The leader of the scouting party came storming into Aveline’s office. The Guard-Captain was trying to sort out where to leave all the militia and unwilling nobles she had commanded to stay in the Keep during all the events taking place in the Gallows, because she wasn’t certain they wouldn’t go to support the Knight Commander. She was about to have a shouting match with an extremely aggravated Conrad Tulli, who happened to be one of the two nobles wearing a helmet, when she got interrupted by a very agitated Guardsman.

‘Captain, Ser, we’re being attacked!’

For one crazy moment Aveline thought Meredith had got wind of their plans and was marching against the Keep. But it turned out to be even worse.

Stammering and panting the Guardsman uttered, ‘A Tevinter army of at least thousand men is approaching the city; they will be here within an hour.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose things always can get worse. But there's always hope.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orsino shows his true face...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 32

 

Keran tightly clutched the large key to the gates of the Gallows’ Courtyard, while he hurried as fast as he could through the sparsely lit corridors. He anxiously ducked in every corner and splash of darkness available to stay out of sight. His heart was hammering in his chest and little hot tentacles of nervousness were crawling over his skin as if he had fallen into an ants’ nest, the little insects venomously biting every part of his body they could reach. He shivered. He never had thought an outwardly simple task as opening the gates would be this scary.

The omnipresent bronze slaves’ statues, at best unpleasant to look at in daylight, were sinister figures in the gloom, seemingly ready to pounce upon him. He could almost hear their wails, uttered in utmost misery and pain, and he shivered some more. He imagined that at every moment he could feel the cold gauntlet of the Knight Commander gripping the scruff of his neck and he almost jumped when somewhere behind him he heard a door open and close. For a few tense moments he stood still, pressed against a pillar in the shadows, until he was certain the muffled footsteps moved away from him. He scolded himself for this childish and almost superstitious fright. With a last irritated scowl on the dooming statues and despite his fears, he soldiered on. He had to let the Guardsmen and militia in, whatever the cost.

-

Orsino had been fretting for hours, pacing to and fro in his study, contemplating about what to do. Oblivious of what had happened down in the dungeons and in the Amell estate only hours earlier, let alone he knew a Tevinter army was marching upon Kirkwall, he had been weighing his chances, wishing he could see the outcome in advance. Yes, it could be the rebels or opposition or whatever they should be called would win, but what would be the consequences for him? Cullen and Thrask knew about the part he had played and he feared for his hide, once this was over and they would be the victors. He had no doubt they would punish him severely.

Weeks before he’d had some cautious though constructive conversations with Thrask about the movement the latter was trying to raise and although the Templar had not involved him entirely, he had enough knowledge of his plans to let him hang. Not to mention he, or rather his contacts, found out Thrask worked now together with Anders and his MUM. He had considered it some kind of insurance if things would go wrong, but that shouldn’t count any longer would the Knight Commander be defeated.

Meredith’s reaction was much more difficult to predict but, on the other hand, he couldn’t imagine she would imprison or kill him for revealing a conspiracy against her. Did he, however, really want to play the ugly role of a traitor? That was a hardest decision to take. And how would he be able to dispose of Meredith afterwards? And that brought him to Marius.

He still didn’t know what the squirt, or rather the Tevinter Imperium, was up to but he was pretty sure he, or they, wouldn’t like it when he put a spoke in the wheel of their schemes. And until he had found a way to fend off Marius’s mind magic, it probably was better to avoid him on the whole. What would the senate do anyway when they found out their plans had gone wrong? Send a Crow to assassinate him? He could hardly believe that.

Orsino opened his cabinet and poured himself a strong brandy which he downed in one go. He took a deep sigh and cut the knot.

-

Conrad Tulli had to admit the Guard Captain had succeeded in not only retaining her own calm, the moment the devastating news of the approach of the Tevinter army got delivered, or rather to get her calm back, but also of everyone else’s in the Keep. Her face had become a stony mask and her demeanour had within moments changed into the personification of steel determination and unshakeable authority. He grudgingly admired her for it.

‘Get Donnic,’ she ordered the messenger, ‘and a bucket of cold water.’ She pointed at the Tevinter mage. ‘It’s high time we wake him up.’ She turned to the Grand Cleric who still was sitting in her office. The difference was Elthina had sat down as a human being and, after the message had been delivered, had become some kind of marble statue, caught in her own terror. ‘I think it is best you stay in the Keep, Your Grace, I will give instructions to prepare a room for you.’

Elthina shook herself back to life and started to protest, though feebly, as if the protest was uttered out of some sort of habit.  For some reason Tulli recognised that habit; her pride as Grand Cleric was related to the arrogance all nobles in Kirkwall shared. And he realised at the same moment the Guard Captain would waltz over every objection. ‘That is out of the question, I will not leave my –‘ Elthina said with a small voice.

Aveline interrupted her with an impatient gesture. ‘Of course you won’t and you don’t have to. How many Templars are there left in the Chantry?’

The Grand Cleric blinked her eyes, visibly overwhelmed by the Guard Captain’s stern conduct. ‘Besides my bodyguard there are ten more, guarding the temple. But I can’t -’

‘Good. I’ll send a Guardsman to tell them to escort the Chantry Sisters and Brothers to the Keep. If things go wrong you will all be safest in here. And if you insist on praying, you can make use of the former Viscount’s private chapel. Your Templars can come in handy in another way. I don’t doubt the Tevinters have mages in their ranks and we need men to contain them.’ Without waiting for an answer she addressed Conrad Tulli. ‘How many marksmen do you have at your disposal?’

He also blinked, completely flabbergasted. She took him by surprise and he almost stuttered. ‘I, I’m not certain.’

Aveline rolled her eyes. ‘And you call yourself a commander?’

‘It was Edgert who held the command,’ he said defensively. He felt three inches high by now. Especially because she regarded him with a look that could only be described as pitiful. Marksmen. Why hadn’t he thought of marksmen? Inwardly he frowned. Why _should_ he have thought of marksmen? The Guard Captain would deliver the answer not half an hour later.

‘Right. Donnic, get Edgert the Hound out of his prison,’ she told her husband who just entered the room, ‘and if he only as much as tries to utter a protest or an insult, you have my full permission to kick him in the ass.’ She turned to Conrad Tulli. ‘And _you_ muster all the militia that are available to defend the city and send your fellow snoo– nobles to my office,’ she ordered him. ‘Now!’ she hollered when the man hesitated. ‘We have an extremely perilous situation at hand and no time to argue!’ He flew out of the room as if he had been launched.

Aveline turned back to the Grand Cleric. ‘Please, Your Grace, if you will be so good as to leave? This room will be a war counsel within a few minutes. But I’d like to keep your personal Templars here, in case that weasel over there tries something unholy again.’ And once more her look lingered upon the Tevinter mage.

That same moment the messenger came in with a filled bucket which left Elthina no time to object. She more or less fled the room, almost in the same way Conrad Tulli had done before her. ‘Throw the water over that thing in the corner,’ Aveline said grimly.

Marius definitely had had more pleasant ways of waking up, instead of being drenched in ice cold water and meeting the dark unyielding glaring eyes of the Guard Captain directly after. ‘Don’t you even begin to _think_ about using your foul magic,’ she hissed, stooping over him, ‘because these Templars won’t hesitate for one second to smite you or whatever they do to incapacitate you. Or would you rather I let fetch Fenris so he can beat the shit out of your miserable body? I think I’d prefer the last option myself; it would be quite a show to behold.’ It was a gamble but she was as good as sure the Tevinter whoreson didn’t know Fenris wasn’t nearby to make his life a living hell.

Marius cringed and Aveline grinned nastily. ‘I see you understand what I mean.’ She stood straight when Edgert de Montfort was ushered in by Donnic. To her satisfaction she saw the first sported a black eye.

‘I demand to know –‘ the Hound started haughtily.

‘Shut your mouth,’ Aveline barked and to his own amazement he did. ‘I have more important issues to deal with at the moment than your misplaced wounded pride. Wait for your turn.’ She hauled Marius on his feet at the collar of his soaked tunic and planted him roughly on a chair. A puddle of water began to form under the piece of furniture. ‘And now you are going to explain what a Tevinter army is doing on Kirkwall soil,’ she snarled. ‘Make it short and quick.’

Edgert de Montfort almost choked. And was more than happy to hear the Guard Captain’s interrogation. He found out very soon she was much better at it than he was.

-

Orsino opened the door to his room, strode into the corridor and immediately collided with Keran. The young Templar squealed with fright, stumbled and dropped the key he was holding. For one terrible moment he thought one of the terrifying statues had come to life to attack him. He went rigid. He could only stare at the key that had been trusted to him and now flew out of his grasp. The object described an almost perfect curve through the air, made a summersault and landed on the floor. The clang with which the heavy key fell on the tiles seemed to be deafening. Keran had stared at the course the key had taken, he had tried to catch it but although he just came to life a moment before the key had hit the ground, he failed to catch the object only by inches. He but just stifled a scream. Only then he noticed Orsino’s presence.

The mage had grabbed Keran’s arm to steady him and now they both stared at the iron object lying on the floor, Keran with rising panic, Orsino with fast growing understanding.

‘What are you doing, running through the Gallows at this hour of night with the key to the gates in your hands?’

Keran wasn’t capable to answer; he had blanched and was trembling all over his body. All of his already stretched nerves paralysed him for some precious moments. Orsino ducked, snatched up the key and pulled the young man into his office. He clicked the door shut behind them. He tried to order his thoughts. It could be the young man had delivered the solution, the answer to his predicament, right into his lap. ‘Sit down, lad,’ he said with a sugary voice, ‘and calm yourself; I won’t bite you.’

Keran more or less collapsed on the chair in front of the desk and took a big gulp of air. He pulled himself together and courageously said, ‘First Enchanter, I really have to go.’

‘And why is that, son; what’s the hurry?’ Even though he stood with his back to the young Templar, he could feel the uneasiness he radiated. He had taken another glass and filled it with a generous amount of brandy. He added a small splash of arcane poison from a little slender phial. The boy knew too much about his deeds; that was to say, he knew about the letter he had written to the Tevinter Imperium and that was dangerous enough. If he was going to hand him over to Meredith, he’d better enslave him first and be certain he would tell her his personal scrambled version of what had happened. Without mentioning the involvement of the Tevinter Imperium. To be completely on the safe side, he crushed the delicate phial between his fingers and made a little cut in the palm of his right hand. Blood magic, so forbidden and so easy to get access to. At least, with the right, not permitted, knowledge.

In the meantime Keran wrecked his brain to come up with a plausible excuse.

Orsino proffered him the glass with the mix of brandy and arcane poison. ‘Take this,’ he said, ‘to ease the shock.’ He smiled reassuringly. At the same time he applied a mild form of the forbidden blood magic. Enough to leave Keran defenceless.

Without thinking Keran accepted the glass and took a large quaff to lessen his nerves. ‘There is a girl,’ he tried desperately, ‘in Lowtown, my sister’s girlfriend, I love her. I, er, I, er I promised her we would meet tonight. I need that key. Please ...’ It wasn’t even a total lie; he did love Elisa who was indeed his sister’s most intimate female friend, although she never spared him a second glance.

‘Of course,’ Orsino mumbled, ‘I understand. We have all been young.’ He grinned predatorily. ‘But we both know you’re lying, don’t we. Who is waiting at the other side of the gates? Or should I ask how many?’ His voice had become cold as ice within a heartbeat.

Keran grew cold as well. But before he could act, Orsino applied another wave of blood magic to chain him. Together with the effect of the poison, it was enough to disable him. Not only the young man wasn’t capable of numbing his magic any longer, he also was put out of action. He might not know how to wield mind magic, but the application of blood magic would make Keran obedient and subjected. He walked around the desk and took the arm of the young Templar in a firm grip. He yanked him up and started to push him out of the office.

In a flash Keran saw what the First Enchanter was about to do. He fought against it but then found his body and mind didn’t respond. He realised the brandy he had accepted had been contaminated. While he was dragged into the Knight Commander’s office on the other side of the corridor, his eyes opened wide with panic. ‘My girlfriend,’ he tried anew but was immediately cut short.

‘Shut up,’ Orsino hissed.

_Why does he do this, what has he to gain? He is the wrongdoer, not me._ But how much he tried, he could not express himself properly. And it didn’t help the Knight Commander’s harsh and crazy intension now focused on him.

Meredith rose from her chair, her face an angry question mark.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ she snapped.

‘Look at him,’ Orsino said triumphantly, ‘and look at a little traitor. I assure you he has a very interesting story to tell.’ 

-

Marius babbled frantically and the words tumbled over each other in his haste to spill the beans. ‘My task was to seed chaos and in the midst of the turmoil our army would strike,’ he ended, his voice pitched high. He expected Fenris’s lightning blue wrath any moment now.

Aveline looked frostily down on him. ‘My congratulations,’ she grumbled with icy sarcasm, ‘it seems you have succeeded, though probably not in the way you wanted.’

‘I say we finish him off right here and now,’ de Montfort said with disgust.

‘No,’ Aveline growled, ‘he can serve a better purpose.’ She put her face close to Marius’s. ‘You have a choice here, you grimy piece of nugshit. Either you help us fight that Tevinter army, or better the mages they undoubtedly have with them, or I kill you right on the spot myself,’ she snarled.

‘I will fight with you,’ Marius shrieked.

‘No!’ de Montfort objected loudly. ‘It is too risky; he will turn against us!’

‘I’ll make sure he will have a Templar with him at all times,’ Aveline said darkly.

‘Even so –‘

She turned fast as a viper and the Hound almost got blasted away by her furious glare. ‘Can you give me a contingent of mages to battle alongside us?’ she spat.

He staggered back but nonetheless managed, ‘We could make an appeal to the Knight Commander.’

Aveline laughed sardonically. ‘What a splendid idea to ask that lunatic for favours! You know as well as I do she would rather see the city overrun by enemies than let just one mage get out of the Circle. But besides that, I’m afraid she’s occupied at the moment. By trying to cope with an attack on the Gallows to be precise. So, since we can’t make use of either the Circle mages or the Templars, we have to make do with what we can get our hands upon. And that involves Marius, ironically the only mage available at the moment.’ She left him wordless and turned her attention to the other nobles who in the meantime had entered her office.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said with grim brightness, ‘I want you to sort out everyone who can hold a bow or can throw a spear and send them to the Hightown Gate. They will be our first and probably most important defences.’

‘And what about Lowtown?’ Lady Reinhardt said. ‘Are we going to leave the citizens down there to their lot?’

‘As if you would care one bit,’ Aveline couldn’t help comment. Lady Reinhardt bristled but the Guard Captain didn’t pay it any heed. ‘Lowtown is only accessible through Hightown or via the Docks. And one can reach the docks only by the small canal between the rocks Kirkwall is famous for. I assure you the chains are already down. My scouts have not reported any fleet manoeuvres and even if that would have escaped their attention, no ship can sail into the harbour, so Lowtown is safe.’ She let an uncompromising look wander from one worried face to the other. ‘I rally my guardsmen, you rally your men. There is no time for discussion, there is only time to act. The enemy will reach our gate within half an hour.’

With that she marched out of the room, Donnic at her heals. She hauled Marius with her. No way would she lose him out of her sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the shit is about to hit the fan...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Situations at all fronts are starting to get dire....
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 33

-

Meredith looked incredulously from Orsino to Keran. They both saw her eyes flash forebodingly red for a moment before she controlled herself. Orsino almost flinched but managed to stay outwardly unperturbed and to keep a strong grip on Keran’s arm at the same time. He didn’t even try to smile innocently or reassuringly or even complacently, but kept a straight face; he deemed it the most sensible solution not to react at all and to just wait for what she would do. It took some time, in fact it seemed to take ages but Orsino forcefully checked his impatience and kept a straight face. The boy, on the other hand, looked as if all the demons of the Fade had pounced upon him.

‘Mettin,’ she finally growled, ‘I need Ser Mettin here right away.’

Keran recoiled instantly at the mention of the name but instinctively Orsino pushed him forward. He didn’t know what had happened to the newly appointed Knight Captain but the lad exposed more with his body language about what had transpired than when he had shouted it out loud. ‘Tell us,’ he snarled. He nudged him and at the same time applied a small wave of magic; he was pretty sure Meredith would be too agitated to notice. In the state of mind she had been for the last couple of months, she wouldn’t have noticed a chorus line of rats dancing the Remmigold on her desk, Orsino suspected.

‘He, he is dead,’ Keran whispered almost inaudible. He felt sick to the bone, sick with himself for his betrayal, involuntarily or not. He swallowed hard and pressed his lips but couldn’t prevent the next words tumbling from his mouth. ‘The Champion killed him, when, when she was freed.’ He shivered as if he had caught a fever. He wanted to scream out loud Orsino was the traitor, that he had invited the Tevinter Imperium into Kirkwall but at the very moment he had worked up the courage, the words froze in his throat. He could only stare at the Knight Commander with wide terrified eyes.

But instead of the furious outburst he expected, both he and Orsino expected, a sudden cruel smile played around Meredith’s lips. ‘Did she now. I suppose he had it coming. He never knew when to stop.’ She didn’t even seem to be upset about Hawke’s escape. Even Orsino was caught off balance with her reaction. He decided this was the final evidence she permanently and completely had gone out of order.

She swirled around to face a corner in the office where her tranquil assistant was working behind a small desk. The woman hadn’t paid attention to the unfolding drama taking place mere yards from her; in fact she hadn’t even looked up from her papers. ‘Elsa, go to the barracks and rally my Templars. Tell them to gather in the hall immediately.’ After some contemplation she added, ‘And bring me a lad that can pass for this trembling brat in the dark.’

Keran’s eyes grew wide. He knew what she was planning but still he wasn’t able to utter a useful word. He felt Orsino’s fingers tightening around his arm.

The Knight Commander’s smile broadened unpleasantly. ‘We’re going to teach those treacherous nobles a valuable lesson.’ Without any comment her assistant hastened out of the room. ‘And the _Champion_ will be sorry she’s born when we recapture her, together with that despicable guard dog she calls her husband.’

‘Are you really planning to fight the nobles with their militia and the Guardsmen they have with them?’ Orsino asked, taken aback.

‘Of course we are going to fight them, you idiot, or do you think I will let them stand on the other side of the gate until they take root? We’ll wipe them out and it will be easy because we’lll fight them on our terms. You disappear to the Circle right now and keep the mages in check. Take that miserable piece of filth with you and make sure you will not let him out of your hands. We will talk later, when all this is over. Then you can explain why you did what you did.’

While he walked to the mages’ quarters, dragging a defenceless Keran along, Orsino pondered her last words. An involuntary shiver went down his spine. _You are a low traitor._ He ignored it. _She is going to kill you as the reward you deserve._ He ignored that as well. He would have to come up with a watertight reason to smooth her paranoia. But he had time. _I will survive._

-

Aveline stood above the Hightown gate, clutching Marius’s wrist. Without looking at him she said, ‘You do exactly as I tell you. One wrong move and you’re dead.’

‘I’m no battle mage,’ Marius protested weakly.

‘No. In fact you’re a pathetic little coward, aren’t you,’ Aveline agreed grimly, ‘so you’d better gain some courage and gain it fast.’

He hazarded to turn his face to her and met her cold smile, flickering in the sparse starlight. Her face seemed frighteningly close. ‘Very fast,’ she added ominously. Her breath washed over his face and he smelled strong coffee. In his roaring fantasy the smell was combined with icy disdain, as if she literally breathed out her contempt for him. He shuddered. He recognised she was lethal. As a cobra, or better perhaps: a tiger. She would strike without hesitation and without mercy.

On his other side he was flanked by a Templar who kept a stern, wary eye on him; he felt boxed in, actually mangled between a rock and a hard place, but there was little he could do about it. He supposed he should be grateful he was still alive. The best thing he could do to keep that precious life was to be compliant.

On the right and left of them archers were lined up on the walls on both sides of the gate, militia and Guardsmen alike, that is the Guardsmen Aveline hadn’t ordered to the Gallows. By now she was grateful she hadn’t sent off all of her men. She had kept the best part of them in the Keep; she had thought she would need them desperately to crush more uprisings in the city. In the dark she grinned sardonically; never in her worst nightmares had she imagined she would have needed them to defend the city against an outward threat.

They hadn’t lit torches and stood in the moonless dark night to keep their presence veiled as long as possible. The Tevinter army wanted to take them by surprise but it would be the other way around. Aveline grimaced. At least, that was what she hoped for.

Despite the collected bravery of the ragtag army, more or less inspired by her indomitable stance, Aveline felt strained. She stood staring into the dark, waiting for the Tevinter army to appear from the Wounded Coast. Not for the first time she inwardly cursed the stupid coincidence of the Tevinters attacking Kirkwall the very night they themselves had decided to overthrow Meredith, with as result their forces were split up. If it was a coincidence at all. Not for the first time she wondered at the stupid chance. Marius claimed he didn’t know but whether that was true or if he simply didn’t want to tell, she was convinced by now there had to be at least one other spy in the city. But whatever the case, it didn’t matter right now; it had already been too late to call the others back. The task, no _duty_ , to fight the enemy off had fallen upon her and she had to make do with what was left of the Guard and the militia.

She just wished the waiting would be over; it felt as if she had been standing here for the best part of the night.

Finally she spotted pinpricks of light in the distance and shortly after that came the sound of the marching of two thousand feet, approaching fast. With a grim expression Aveline saw them come nearer and when they were close enough so that she could discern individual persons in the light of the torches they were carrying with them, she almost swore out loud. ‘They have battering rams,’ she hissed to Marius, ‘why haven’t you told me they have battering rams?!’ The same moment she clasped her hand over his mouth, afraid he would cry out in response.

‘I didn’t know!’ Marius’s voice sounded muffled through her armoured fingers.

She didn’t believe him but it wasn’t important at the moment. ‘Just shut up,’ she growled. She waited until the army came to a halt. She stared at the enemy before the gate, an enemy willing to take the city and make it a part of the dark Empire once more. _Over my dead body,_ she thought harshly. She addressed the Templar guarding Marius. ‘Keep a strong eye on him,’ she hissed and before the man could react she jerked Marius’s wrist. ‘If you don’t help us, you better prepare for your death because I will kill you myself.’

He didn’t argue her heated words but instead tried to collect his powers to fight the country that up until now had paid his wages. They didn’t pay for his life, though. It was a big difference.

Aveline then took a deep breath and bellowed, ‘Archers, get ready ... aim ... fire!’

A cloud of arrows whooshed through the air and surprised the Tevinters who weren’t expecting any resistance. But they recovered fast from the initial shock.

Within a heartbeat havoc broke out.

-

Cullen was growing impatient, wondering what took Keran so long. He had herded the group of rebellious Templars and mages together in the two prison cells close to the entrance of the secret passage and continually he had to urge them to be quiet. He had counted them meticulously and thus knew one of the mages was still missing. Together with Keran’s delay it was adding highly to his anxiousness. Had something gone wrong? And if so, what was he to do? Their only chance was to attack together, to take Meredith by surprise and even if she managed to call upon the Templars, to crash them on two sides. That was the purpose of their plan.

His fingers twitched nervously. He had to make a decision. He couldn’t leave the gathered persons in the dungeons waiting any longer. Let alone Thrask could keep the combination of MUM and the gathered – group of, well, whatever he could name the Champion and her retinue, storming the Gallows on their own account. He clenched his jaw. If Keran wouldn’t pop up any moment now, this enterprise would turn into a disaster. He had not the illusion he could turn back the tides now. Not with the wound up people around him and the even more wound up group waiting on the other side of that bloody hatch. For heaven’s sake, what was keeping that boy?!

-

Orsino had dragged Keran into the Circle’s library that also functioned as relaxation room. He had planted the young Templar on a chair and had started to pace nervously. With every turn he seemed to get more anxious and Keran could feel his vigilance wane. He was able to think clear again, although the physical sluggishness stayed on. He would not be able to dart from this room fast enough; Orsino would stop him before he had reached the door. He fervently searched for a way out, for a way to warn Cullen.

Only now he saw the young mage pressed against the wall between two bookcases not far from him. He recognized her as a member of the movement. She looked petrified from the First Enchanter to him and back and he found he was as afraid as she appeared to be. What would happen if Orsino detected her? Meanwhile the First Enchanter looked almost as paranoid as the Knight Commander already was. But eventually he managed to push his fear aside and to catch her eyes. ‘Come here,’ he mouthed. After some long moments of hesitation the girl shuffled close enough to exchange a few words. To pass a message.

‘Why are you still here?’ Keran whispered.

The First Enchanter looked up sharply; Keran almost recoiled and the girl stiffened. To his relief she managed to be an almost indistinguishable shadow in the dim light. He hoped with all his might Orsino thought he still had him on a leash. It had taken him precious time to get away from his influence, to feel the blood magic decrease enough to work up the courage to address the frightened girl. Estel? He thought that was her name. He held his breath and tried to look as neutral as possible. _Please, let him think I’m still his puppet._

At last Orsino looked away and resumed his pacing.

When the First Enchanter had turned his back on them she whispered back, ‘We were ordered to slip out one by one not to rouse suspicion. We were told to count to a thousand before we made our move.’

‘Then run now,’ Keran pressed, ‘Orsino has betrayed us. There is no time left. Meredith knows all about our plans. The others at the gate will be wiped away. Warn the Knight Captain! You know where to go.’ He wanted to shake her but didn’t dare to move.

Her eyes flitted from him to the First Enchanter, looking incredulously; she seemed to be paralysed.

‘Now!!’ Keran screamed out loud, desperately trying to shake her out of her stupor. 

As he had expected Orsino turned sharply to him. Within an intake of breath he was upon him and whacked him around the ears. ‘Shut up!’ he shouted. But from the corner of his eye Keran saw the mage-girl flee the room.

In a desperate attempt to divert the First Enchanter, he attacked him with the little strength he had left. ‘I hate you!’ he yelled, ‘you’re a monster!’ The next moment he found himself smacked against a wall and felt at least three ribs break. But the girl had got away. He smiled before another blow deprived him of his conscience.

-

On the other side of the trap-door Thrask was getting as restless as Cullen already was. ‘It is taking long,’ he muttered. _Too long,_ he added in the privacy of his head. Behind his back the others were pressed together, their faces tense in the torchlight; he could hear the edgy shuffling of feet and the soft murmur of voices. The only one who seemed to be relaxed and even cheerful was Anders.

‘Waiting always takes long,’ he said, almost joyfully, ‘you just have to make the best of it.’ He sounded rather merry in the present circumstances. Whether it was due to the absence of Justice or the amount of alcohol still sloshing along his veins was not completely clear; probably a combination of the two.

‘I don’t understand why we are standing here anyway,’ Isabela complained. ‘I mean in these cramped stinking tunnels. It will take ages to get the smell out of my hair and my clothes.’

‘Which clothes?’ Hawke informed sweetly. She heard Fenris quietly snigger and felt his hand move to her hip and squeeze gently.

Thrask sighed heavily; the pirate queen was getting on his nerves. ‘I’ve explained this before, haven’t I,’ he grumbled aggravated. ‘There simply is not enough room at the entrance of the secret passage. It will be overcrowded as it is already. And we can’t spread out in the dungeons, that’s far too risky. It just needs one Templar to let the alarm go off.’

‘Really Rivaini,’ Varric smirked mockingly, ‘haven’t you been listening to anything what the man said?’

‘No,’ Isabela retorted defiantly, ‘I was bored to shreds after just once sentence.’

Even in the dim light it was obvious Thrask was staring viciously at her.

‘Don’t mind her, Ser Thrask,’ Hawke grinned, ‘she always goes like this when the topic isn’t sex or booty.’

Thrask rolled his eyes with annoyance.

And then the hatch to the trap-door flew open with a loud thud.

-

Cullen caught the mage-girl the moment she more or less stumbled into his arms.

‘You have been told to be quiet!’ he hissed irritably. Heavens! What was he to do with this bunch of jumpy mages! But her next words chilled his blood.

‘Knight Captain Ser, we have been betrayed!’ she panted. ‘By the First Enchanter!’

At that very moment he heard the jingle of fast approaching Templars. There was no time to think. He pushed the girl away and snatched the hatch of the trap-door open. ‘Move!’ he yelled to Thrask, ‘Now!’

-

Lady Selbrech let out a thankful sigh when she saw a cloaked and hooded figure hurrying to the gate through the shadows of the courtyard. ‘Finally.’ There was a faint clinking sound of a key being turned around in a keyhole and the gates opened. As silent as possible they all passed through it and not a minute later the combined forces of militia and Guardsmen were in.

‘Follow me,’ the dark figure whispered. She assumed he was Keran but wasn’t certain. They crossed the courtyard to a small alleyway on the left which, for a heartbeat, stirred Lady Selbrech’s doubt.

‘Why don’t we take the head entrance?’ she hissed askance.

‘Because it’s too dangerous. Trust me, my Lady, this is the safest way in,’ the hooded person answered softly.

Marlein Selbrech shrugged. The young man would know best; after all, he lived here.

There were a few twists and turns and another iron gate to be opened but at last they seemed to have reached their goal. Their guide stepped aside and let them pass into the Gallows main hall.

The same time they entered the vast room they realised something was terribly wrong.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like rats in a trap...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaos all over the place.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 34

-

With horror Lady Selbrech stared at the far too large numbers of Templars. As if, and with her blood running cold she knew with icy certainty there never had been an “as if”, they were waiting for them. They _were_ waiting for them, at the top of the broad stairway leading down to the space where she and her co-conspirators were gathered right now. And non-other than Meredith stood in front of her men with a predatory sneer on her face, her arms folded over her armoured chest.

Theodore of Wildervale gripped Marlein’s arm. ‘We have to get out of here,’ he urged her. But when they looked behind them, they found the gateway shut. The guide had disappeared. Of course he had. She clenched her jaw in strained irritation. They were stuck, as good as imprisoned. She didn’t know whether the guide had been Keran who had betrayed them for whatever reason, or had been someone else, impersonating him, and the lad was in great danger right now – or worse.

In the end it didn’t matter; the result was the same. Disastrous.

‘Well, isn’t this perfectly peachy. We walked straight into a trap,’ she heard Philippe de Beaumont murmur. Out of the corner of her eye she caught his half smile, or better his half grimace. He had already drawn his sword. ‘But we aren’t defeated yet,’ he added with optimistic fervour. She admired him for his unperturbed demeanour but didn’t answer him while her thoughts raced. _Who has set us up?_

And now the Knight Commander took the floor. ‘Did you really think you would get away with this?’ she scoffed disparagingly ‘Rebelling against your own Commander; how dare you!’ She berated them as if they were little children.

It made Lady Selbrech’s blood boil. Before she could react, however, de Beaumont’s voice rumbled with utmost disdain.

‘First, you’re not _our_ commander,’ he retorted with sarcastic contempt, ‘although you seem to think you rule this city. Which leads us to the second issue: it became high time you’d be exposed as the dangerous lunatic you are and be put down.’

‘I will not tolerate this!’ Meredith hollered within an instant. With a dramatic and high arc she drew her own sword and pointed her weapon at them. To their utter dismay they saw the blade flare up with an eerie red coating, apparently ready to inflame. Magic seemed to crackle through the air; it felt like very old and very malicious magic. _This is impossible_ , Marlein Selbrech thought in shock, _the Knight Commander can’t use magic_! But then she remembered what the Guard Captain had mentioned about the sword when she had been confronted with it. Now she could completely understand what the woman had meant. Especially now Meredith’s eyes turned into a possessed look, mirroring the uncanny colour of her weapon.

 Without turning her head Meredith commanded her hastily newly appointed Captain. ‘Kill them all!’ The man hesitated; no doubt he and his Templars got also affected by the evil the blade radiated. Some of them visibly tried to shy away from it.

And also the militia shrank back. In fact, they all shrank back and Marlein Selbrech was afraid they would crumble in panic. It would become a massacre. But her fear turned out to be unfounded.

Because at least one person kept their wits together and shook them out of their trance.

Suddenly Theodore of Wildervale stepped forward.

‘Shield wall!’ he roared.

Without thinking the hired soldiers fell into the formation they had exercised so often; they linked their shields together and held their short swords at the ready to stab any enemy that dared to attack them.

‘Stand your ground,’ he ordered, bellowing. He knew it would be ludicrous trying to attack the Templars while going upstairs. No need to rush into the danger, no need to give up their position. _Let them take the initiative themselves._

Automatically the Guardsmen followed the example; it was clear they also knew about the shield wall formation and were well trained.

To Lady Selbrech’s surprise someone started to sing, the rough voice ringing raggedly through the vast hall. He soon got followed by the others, giving it more vigour. It sounded like some kind of vulgar drinking song but that didn’t matter, as long as it gave them courage. It surprised her even more that the Guardsmen picked up the song.

It dawned on Meredith she wasn’t confronted with some useless undisciplined rabble of society, as she had expected, but with a well-trained army. It only increased her fury. ‘Kill them!’ she screamed again at the top of her lungs. ‘What are you waiting for!’ But instead of the charge she had had in mind, the Templars approached cautiously. You never knew what men singing like that were capable of.

‘Launch the missile!’ she bawled.

But her new Captain knew his own men would suffer as much from the gas as the steady and determined shield wall challenging his own men, if he followed that order. They weren’t supplied with the protecting masks. He refused her command.

‘Draw your swords,’ he ordered instead, taking the cautious path.

Lady Selbrech, after taking her place in the strong shield wall, could only admire his decision. 

The singing put up a notch. And determination.

**-**

As fast as they could they scrambled out of the sewers, with Ser Thrask up front. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he bit to Cullen but there was no need for an answer because at the same time he heard the marching feet.

Nevertheless, the former Knight Captain replied curtly while he busied himself with ordering the Circle mages into a formation so they resembled some kind of front, ‘Betrayal. Orsino.’

Thrask cursed inwardly. No need for further explanations. ‘Hurry up!’ he yelled over his shoulder. And they did. Near moments later he saw a Templar battalion rounding the corner. But more importantly, he noticed the masks they wore which could only mean one thing. This time he cursed out loud. ‘Get down!’ he roared.

Fenris immediately recognised the danger; he threw an arm around Hawke’s waist and dragged her down with him on the floor before she could express a protest. ‘Cover your face,’ he hissed. He wasn’t sure at all if this measure was enough to ward off the effect of the deathcloud gas but the hatch to the trap-hole was already closed and it was too late to dive back into the sewers. ‘Try not to breathe,’ he added desperately, knowing it was silly advice.

In the corridor the marching feet came to a halt and there sounded an order. ‘Throw the grenade!’ With dread Fenris awaited the outcome.

He heard a loud “plonk”, followed by a triumphant cry coming from Anders, and almost directly after that panicked stifled screams that definitely were not uttered by their comrades in arms. When he dared to take a look he saw Anders patting his staff more or less in the same affectionate way Varric used to fondle his crossbow. ‘That was a bloody brilliant hit,’ the mage said proudly.

‘You _batted_ that thing out of the way?’ Fenris said unbelievingly while he got up and helped Albran to stand. ‘With your _staff_?’

The mage beamed brightly at him. ‘And why not? When magic fails you can always rely on good old cricket. It was very popular back in the Ferelden Circle and I was rather good at it.’

‘Less talking, more fighting,’ Varric shouted cheerfully and let loose a volley of bolts.

From under his shoulder Cullen stared incredulously at the eruption of the sickening pungent yellow gas and the mayhem it caused in the ranks of the Templars. The masks gave some protection but evidently not against a direct blast. He jumped up. ‘Varric, stop that! Mages, put them out of action, immobilize them but don’t kill them; the rest of you: stand back!’

Mere seconds later the whole battalion was eliminated. So it was extremely frustrating they had to wait much longer before the effect of the deathcloud had waned enough so they could lock the surviving retching or completely unconscious Templars in the prison cells and set off to see what had happened to the Guardsmen and the three nobles and their militia.

-

Aveline very soon found out the Tevinters not only had battering rams at their disposal but ladders as well.

In a constant stream soldiers climbed the walls while, at the same time, the enemy archers rained down arrows upon them and in the background a squadron of mages launched spell after spell. Between the handful of Templars and the only mage trying to diminish their influence, it was a sheer miracle they hadn’t been blown away as yet. She had had to let go off Marius times before, while she kept running along the line of their own archers, ordering swordsmen upon the wall to fight back the Tevinters attempting to overwhelm them, encouraging her men and giving the good example by pushing back ladders and skewering the enemies that had succeeded in climbing up the broad wall. She almost seemed to be at every spot at the same time, the key-figure that deliberately wrapped the battle around her, pulled the battle towards her.

And still she thought it wasn’t enough.

The sickening sound of solid with steel clad trunks endlessly pounding the wooden gates of Hightown never ceased to echo through her head and filled her with dread. Yes, the wood was sturdy, old oak that had through time hardened as steel, but she feared that in the end the gates would yield under the never ceasing determined assault.

Marius felt a slap on his shoulder when she passed him. ‘Concentrate on the ones handling the battering rams,’ she shouted in his ear, ‘don’t let them crush the gates!’

But the moment he let his attention whirl from the mages to the soldiers operating the heavy beams, he felt the hostile magic increase and paralyse the warriors fighting back the never ending current of Tevinters coming up the ladders. The Templars were all but spent; at this point they were useless. He had no other choice but turning back his attention to the squadron of mages and try to reduce the impact of their spells. Sweat was pouring down his face and he became exhausted but doggedly carried on. _I am a mind mage, I can keep them in check._

But despite his determination he began to give in; he felt dead tired and the only reason he carried on was because of Aveline’s grim willpower. It appeared the Guard Captain was indefatigable and he tried to follow her example, although he was near to collapsing. For a short heartbeat he wondered why he was doing this. But at the same instant he caught the near possessed ferocious look in the Guard Captain’s eyes and suddenly he understood.

She was fighting for a cause, for a true cause. For a city she loved. For people she loved and wanted to save. To his surprise he found it was contagious and he instantly realised he felt the same for the first time in his life; there was worth in believing in such a cause. Never before he had believed in any cause except his own. Nobody ever had taught him to. Nobody had ever given him a reason to. In the Imperium you had to win to survive, to fend for yourself. Over there, there was no other cause to fight, he never had known another cause. And now he did. The insight struck him and he drew energy out of it. He straightened his shoulders and invigorated soldiered on. He felt proud. A city was relying on him. People were relying on him. Yes, he had a cause. For the first time in his life he had a worthy cause. He never had known something like that even existed.

Aveline got livid Marius ignored her order but on second thought she saw the Tevinter mage was right. The mages were at this point far more dangerous than the battering rams. There were still a significant amount of Guardsmen behind the gates to fight the now inevitable invasion. She roared her orders and encouragements to the men on the wall and saw to her satisfaction they put up the bravery to attack the Tevinters with rekindled energy. She darted down the stairs leading to the square before the gates to assist the Guardsmen who were waiting to strike at the moment the Tevinters would bash in the solid wood and would try to stream into the city. _No way they will succeed,_ their determined expression said to her satisfaction.

-

‘Has nobody seen my perfect strike?’ Anders complained while they were jogging into the direction of where a lot of shouting voices and clanging weapons sounded – no way to miss the battleground – ‘Really, no-one?’

‘Cheer up Blondie,’ Varric replied, ‘we’ve all seen the result. It was evidence enough. Take it from me we all worship you as the hero you are.’

Anders glared suspiciously at the dwarf and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. The dwarf beamed innocently brightly back.

When they entered the Gallows’ main hall they stumbled into a hectic scene. The stout shield wall was wavering, though not because of frantic Templars attacking their opponents but because of Meredith who was with unleashed fury hacking at shields and soldiers alike. She made victims as she went but it seemed no sword could reach her. All the while she was screaming like a madman. Madwoman.

Cullen stepped forward and shouted loudly over the din, ‘Knight Commander! Stop this idiocy!’

She turned viciously on her heels and they automatically staggered back. Only Cullen managed to keep his position, Maker knew how. Her face was a distorted ghastly mask, deprived of all humanity. Her eyes near literally shot fire. It was an awful and extremely unnerving sight to behold.

But Cullen did not waver. ‘I relieve you from your rank,’ he called out with a steady voice. He didn’t expect her to listen to him but there were others who would. Already he saw several Templars move away from her to join his band. His influence was still palpable. ‘It is obvious you no longer can control yourself, let alone rule this Order. Step down.’

‘You idiot!’ Meredith howled, pointing her red glowing blade towards him. ‘I told you before you abandoned the righteous path and see how right I am! Consorting with mages! How low have you sunk!’ She turned to the Templars who still surrounded her but had stopped fighting. In fact, the whole battle had come to an abrupt halt. Everyone stared in awe from Cullen to Meredith and back. The tension was flagrant. ‘Look at him, look at the traitor!’ she creamed with her ear-piercing screeching voice. ‘Kill him!!’

No-one reacted.

‘Be sensible, Knight Commander,’ Cullen pleaded. He knew his appeal fell on deaf ears on her account, but he hoped he could persuade the others to see his point of view; he was fervently trying to save lives. ‘We will gain nothing if we slaughter each other. Put your sword down and surrender.’ As he had hoped, more Templars climbed the stairway to join their gang. Even the group still clustered around Meredith began to fall apart.

‘Never!’ Meredith shrieked. ‘I will not give in to temptation!’ She saw her Templars leaving her, first one by one but soon after in groups. Even the ones that had envied or despised Cullen, when he still had been the Knight Captain. They resembled alarmed animals that instinctively fled from an earthquake or a volcanic eruption. Or, in some occasions, rats that fled the sinking ship. ‘You cowards!’ she squealed harshly. ‘I don’t need you! I will protect this city myself! I serve the Maker and He is with me!’

With force she slammed her blade into the floor and started to utter texts of the Chant, texts that due to her madness turned into incomprehensible scrambled fragments.

And then, probably due to the influence of the red lyrium worked into the sword, tiles started to undulate and the warriors in the hall scurried out of the way as fast as they could. Again Theodore of Wildervale kept his wits together. ‘Up the stairs, all of you,’ he commanded. He pushed the militia passed him and as the last one, urged on and hauled up by both Marlein Selbrech and Philippe de Beaumont, had been pushed into relative safety, he followed them into safety.

-

The waves rippled further, reached the stairs and the walls. A low ominous sound began to growl, a sound that quickly gained in force and became a high-pitched tone. It started to resonate in the stones and the tiles and even in their bodies. Almost everyone stumbled, some fell. They got dragged to their feet by the others who were trying to flee the scene, but who were as much reluctant to leave their brothers and sisters in arms at the mercy of the destruction that was about to happen. All of them managed to reach the top of the stairs. And all of them turned to watch the Knight Commander. The most sound action would have been to run as fast as they were able to but for some reason, as if they couldn’t believe what was happening and wanted to witness it with their own eyes, they kept standing. As did the ones who had gathered in the dungeons to take to the fight.

A low rumble started as if the foundations of the Gallows slowly began to rip apart.

And then, with a sharp motion Meredith stabbed the blade, that by now was bright ablaze, into the air. Flickers of red light snaked around her body like lightning bolts, even more accentuating the madness radiating from her eyes. The sword appeared to have a life on its own.

‘Holy Mother of Partha.’ Varric murmured, taken aback. ‘I knew it; it _is_ red lyrium.’

He got no response. Every witness stared gobsmacked at what was unfolding before their eyes.

A fiery vortex started to evolve from the raised sword. Slowly but surely bricks got ripped apart from the surrounding walls. Tiles flew up. In no time whole walls started to crumble, flying into the violent current, adding to the growing maelstrom of shuddering power and debris; the floor began to dissolve.

In the disturbing chaos Fenris was the first to regain his senses. ‘She is blowing up the Gallows!’ he shouted. ‘We have to get out of here!’ He grabbed Hawke and started running into the direction of the secret passage that wasn’t that secret anymore. She didn’t resist. Many more followed him, a panicky expression plastered on their faces.

The last one to stay behind was Cullen. Just before the sword and everything it had gathered exploded and removed in one giant blast the roof and everything that till now remained of the main hall, he saw Meredith fall on her knees and be consumed by the red lyrium that had driven her crazy. He heard the blood curdling scream she uttered the moment she got coated with the evil mineral, and witnessed her turning into a sinister statue before she got buried under the bricks and tiles and dirt of the rubble that began to rain down around her. 

Just in time Thrask managed to haul him out of the danger zone into safety.

-

In the Circle quarters Orsino looked up, alarmed. Something was happening and it wasn’t good. The next moment the walls trembled and threatened to collapse. The whole section of the building shook and quivered. A brain numbing low noise sounded; it made his hackles rise and he feared his eardrums would burst. Alarmed mages, dragged out of their sleep, ran into the library.

‘What is happening?!’

He didn’t know but he feared for the worst. Whatever that worst could be. Only minutes later, minutes that seemed to last ages, the noise receded and the peace returned. The sudden silence was deafening. He cautiously walked to the entrance leading to the Templar part of the Gallows but found the door wedged by something outside. With all his might he couldn’t open it. And even worse, the moment he laid his hands upon the door, he nearly burned his palms. In a flash and with a curse he backed away. Whatever had happened, it involved fire. Or rather, he sensed now, great power. Magical power. His eyes grew wide with panic and disbelief.

On the other side of the room Keran awoke. He squinted through bleary eyes. The first thing he saw was the First Enchanter turning to the wary mages with large eyes filled with naked fear. Despite the pain that flooded his chest he smiled happily. Orsino hadn’t got his way. There would be hell to pay for him after this was over.

-

Fenris found himself in the dirt of the sewers with Albran in his arms. He wanted to laugh out loud with relief. They had managed to avoid the danger and destruction the Knight Commander had evoked. He forwent the laughter and instead kissed her with deep hot passion. To his rejoice she reciprocated wholeheartedly without a comment. He didn’t care one bit everyone noticed the blatant expression of their shared love. He exhilarated in it. He drew her even closer.

‘I love you,’ he breathed on her lips.

She smiled. ‘And I love you.’ After some contemplation she added, ‘I would even love you more in a hot bath.’

And at that he could no longer restrain his merry rumbling laugh. ‘I take that as a promise.’

He drowned his confusion and panic about the occurrences by burying his face in her hair and deeply inhaling her scent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very own impression of the night Kirwall fell apart... hope you liked it. Next chapter about the battle againt the Tevinters, or course.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Kirkwall...
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 35

 

Aveline had ordered her men to form a shield wall just behind the gate. And now the sturdy wood had been bashed in, they were with all of their might trying to withhold the Tevinters of breaking through their lines. The united militia of the nobles that fought figuratively at their side, which was a miracle in itself but not one to ponder right now, were assembled behind their backs and Aveline could only hope they wouldn’t lose their nerves. She fervently hoped they themselves wouldn’t lose their nerves, that they could hold on until the battle in the Gallows was over. No-one over there knew what was happening here but they’d found out soon enough and would rush to their aid like the reinforcements they urgently needed; especially the help of the mages would be more than welcome. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Meredith and her Templars would win the fight. Well, it wasn’t hard to imagine the city’s fate; Kirkwall would be taken over by the Tevinter Imperium once more with all the dire consequences. She had to keep believing Meredith would successfully be put down and her friends would come to the rescue, together with their forces.

And then the ground started to vibrate and there sounded a low ominous rumble as if something was about to erupt. The rumble increased rapidly to a sudden deafening roar like an exploding barrel of gaatlok. Or better: like a whole ship packed with the stuff. Or better even, like an exploding volcano. Within moments unrest began to spread among the fighters, Kirkwall soldiers and Tevinters’ alike; the battle wavered and almost stalled. A large sinister red column escalated from the Gallows, clearly visible through the ruined gate against the dark sky, slowly and almost elegantly rising up and up before it with a sudden crash burst out. There was a mighty blow and an outburst of what looked like fire before a cloud of rubble and dust, unfolding like a mushroom, hid the extent of the devastation from view. But it was obvious the Gallows existed no longer.

Everyone stared wide-eyed and agape at the macabre sight, no-one able to react for long moments. They all resembled an unearthly tableau; fifteen hundred warriors frozen in time.

Aveline grew cold and her heart plummeted into her stomach. It was impossible that anybody could have survived that blast. No reinforcements would come. Her friends were all dead. _No!_ She pulled herself together at the same moment. She refused to believe it; they couldn’t have perished there just like that, they must have found a way out. She willed the dark fear aside, she had a city to save. ‘On me!!’ she bellowed to the men who were still gazing dumbfounded at the ghastly scene. ‘Stop wallowing and take back your positions!!’

And the tableau shattered.

Too bad the Tevinters collected themselves just precious heartbeats sooner. She heard their captain scream out an unintelligible string of orders and in no time they attacked their ragged line of perplexed men. Defeat lurked around the corner.

-

`We must get out of these passages as fast as possible,’ Cullen spurred on the unlikely and unfitting collection of warriors, nobles, guardsmen, mages and Templars. ‘There’s no telling they will hold, now the Gallows have been blown up. Who knows what damage has been done to the foundations.’

Reluctantly Hawke let go of Fenris but she acknowledged the Knight Captain was right. By the way the other Templars looked at him for guidance, it was clear his former title was restored; they followed him like lost puppies. Or perhaps it was better to say they all hobbled after him like newly hatched chicks after the mother goose, even the mages of the Underground Movement. Even the three nobles and their militia. Hawke grinned inwardly. She didn’t even doubt Cullen would take Meredith’s position as Knight Commander, that was, if the Divine in Val Royeaux would approve of course. But she would strongly recommend him to her Holiness.

All the way through the sewers to Darktown, Sebastian kept on mumbling what Hawke assumed were prayers. Although most of the time she got annoyed with this kind of unctuous behaviour on his part, tonight she could sympathise. Not only had they escaped a narrow death, they had had to leave people behind whose lot was uncertain, to put it mildly.

‘What do you think has happened to the Circle mages?’ Merrill piped up timidly, giving word to Hawke’s own worries.

‘We will investigate as quickly as possible,’ Cullen replied. ‘I have no idea what Meredith has caused, but I don’t want to believe yet they have all died.’ He still shivered at the memory of the Knight Commander seething and screaming while she got covered with and overtaken by red lyrium, and perished under the wreckage she herself had brought about. Had all of the Gallows become her tomb? Was everything ruined, even the mages quarters? He wished he could tell. _And what has become of Keran?_

No sooner had they reached Darktown, or they came across a horde of terrified people who were with a determined look in their eyes hurrying towards the old mine tunnels. Hawke imagined the explosion of the Gallows must had been a frightful sight but she could hardly believe it would arouse this much panic. And if so, she’d expect people to flee into Hightown rather than the Undercity. She grabbed one of the fugitives by the arm. She recognized him as one of the burly thugs who frequented the Hanged Man, the one who liked to wave broken bottles around. She had always thought nothing could frighten the man but at this moment he seemed to be the personification of naked fear. He didn’t even recall who she was.

‘What the hell is going on?’ she demanded to know.

The man tore himself free and babbled frantically, ‘You have to get out of here; we’re being attacked!’

‘Attacked? What do you mean? Attacked by whom?’ Hawke yelled over the din surrounding them but he was already gone. Next a woman stumbled into her; to her surprise she turned out to be Norah. Albran almost got knocked off her feet and Fenris’s hand shot out to steady her.

‘Champion? Is it really you? Thank the Maker! You have to do something!’ Norah cried manically.

‘About what?’ Hawke cried back, bewildered.

Varric stepped forward and brushed her aside. He took the barmaid’s hand. ‘Alright Norah,’ he said gently, ‘what’s happening, what’s the rush?’

The maid turned to him, her eyes wild and her face flushed. ‘The city is under attack,’ she squeaked, ‘there is an army at the Hightown Gate attacking the city!’

‘Army? What army?’ Varric asked confused but Fenris comprehended immediately.

‘Tevinters. The Imperium,’ he growled with hardly suppressed fury. ‘ _That’s_ what Marius was here for. To spy and pave the way.’

‘So the pretty boy wasn’t just here because of Danarius,’ Isabela reacted with a dirty smirk, ‘the little brat led a complete army to Kirkwall. A nice Chantry brother he would have made,’ she sneered at Sebastian, easily forgetting how she had fallen prey to Marius’s mind magic herself, ‘so trustworthy and reliable, don’t you agree?’

Sebastian looked devastated.

‘Yes, Isabela, all true but I’m sure it can wait,’ Hawke snapped, ‘cut the crap. At this very moment Aveline is trying to keep an army at bay with what is left of her Guardsmen. Instead of pointing fingers we’d better run to aid them.’

Anders grabbed his staff and said belligerently with a dangerous glint in his eyes, ‘Let’s go kill the bastards. The sooner we kick them out of the city, the sooner I can beat the shit out of that filthy impostor.’

Hawke turned to Cullen. ‘Perhaps you should take the lead. I’m afraid I’m better in hand to hand combat than in commanding an army,’ she added with a grimace.

But even with the heavy armoured Templars as some kind of steel-plated battering ram up front it was difficult to struggle against the swelling stream of hysterical refugees. It took frustratingly long to get out of Darktown.

 

Aveline’s voice was hoarse from bellowing orders and encouragements. Despite all her efforts, she hadn’t been able to quench the despair that had her men in its grip after the disaster of the blown up Gallows, and the already ragged shield wall had fallen apart. When her voice started to fail her, she heard Donnic roar the commands. She was grateful for it but neither her not his exertions could prevent they were driven back to the square before the Keep in what had become a crude survival of the fittest. They were greatly outnumbered, but a retreat into the Keep was out of the question. They had to be victorious, against all odds, or fall here this night, which was much more plausible. The situation looked extremely bleak.

 They managed to make some sort of last stand at the foot of the Viscount Way, to form once more a shield wall, but Aveline knew all too well it was hopeless. She couldn’t feel her sword arm anymore; the muscles and sinews were numb. And only with the greatest of efforts she managed to hold her shield up. The exhausted army of Guardsmen and militia got slowly but surely step by step forced up the stairs. She didn’t even want to think of how they felt. She was faintly aware of the presence of Marius next to her, using a staff – she didn’t know where he obtained that mage weapon – to fend off enemies, apparently too tired to wield his magical powers anymore. _He fights his own people_ , she thought weakly, _he chose a side in the end. Good lad._ She smiled despondently. The poor boy would die here, just as the rest of them.

The end was near.

And then she heard a deafening war cry. Over the heads of the Tevinter soldiers she saw in a haze a large group of – she couldn’t define what it was. It looked like a blur of bluish apparitions screaming their lungs out. At first she grew cold with dread, fearing it was a pack of demons, summoned by the Tevinter mages, though she hadn’t sensed their influence for a long time. Whether it was due to Marius and the handful of Templars, or simply because they had spent their powers she couldn’t tell. Now she feared they had used their strength to summon an army of vile creatures from the Fade. She blinked to get rid of the sweat in her eyes and suddenly her vision cleared. In the shimmering light of the few remaining burning lamp-posts she saw that the creatures were no demons at all, but elves, painted in their blue war colour.

‘ _The Alienage_ ,’ she thought in a flash at the same moment the horde crashed into the battlefield. At the same time the first arrows began to hit their targets. ‘ _The rabble that wanted to attack the Gallows now have found a new goal to work off their anger_.’ She couldn’t help laughing out loud; even in her own ears it sounded hysterical but she didn’t care.

‘Reinforcements!’ she roared with new found vigour. ‘Stand strong! Hold your position! The elves have come!’ She made it sound as if the inhabitants of the Alienage were some kind of mythical people that came swooping in to diminish the enemy. But at this very moment it wasn’t ridiculous. At this very moment that “rabble” was the embodiment of rescue. Of hope. Of life. Of saving lives. Of victory even. She could sense the positive impact on the men. They straightened their shoulders and their resistance turned from desperation to iron determination.

The Tevinters, on the other hand, were confused. In an instant they had to fight on two fronts; they never had expected to be attacked at their unprotected back. For a few heartbeats they were overwhelmed by seeing a mass of blue painted screaming devils assaulting them and they stiffened, not knowing how to react. But their commanders were well trained and so were the soldiers. They reacted swiftly. The rear turned and formed within a few minutes a solid phalanx. The courageous elves’ charge stranded on a wall of stout wooden shields. Even their arrows didn’t do much harm anymore.

Aveline felt her new courage drain. Even now that the Tevinter army was occupied on two fronts, their pressure remained deadly. If not devastating.

-

The first thing Hawke saw, the moment their ragtag bunch entered the battlefield, was the elves trying to break the Tevinters. In vain, so it seemed. In an instant she recognized Cullen wouldn’t comprehend this. He was not used to elves, they never entered the Order, she wasn’t even sure they were allowed to. He would not appreciate their importance. She didn’t know what had happened, why they were fighting here and now, but she could try to turn the presence of the Alienage’s elves into their favour.

‘Merrill!’ she called out to the petite elf. ‘Tell your people to draw back! They’re only sacrificing themselves. They’re fodder. Stop that. Let them use their bows from a distance and let every arrow count.’ Without waiting for an answer she turned sharply to Anders. ‘Order your mages to eliminate those Tevinter idiots.’

The mage saluted. ‘With pleasure, my lady,’ he retorted with savage satisfaction. He turned to the little group of mage rebels to shout some commands.

‘Attack the phalanx,’ she ordered Cullen, ‘your Templars can sow through them! Use your armour and steel.’

Cullen eyed her for a second, realised she was right and followed her order. She might have given him the command in the sewers, at this very moment she was the only one who knew what was going on. Although, on second thought, probably she _didn’t_ know what was going on but, more importantly, she knew how to react on the situation. After all she _was_ the Champion. And at this very moment she stood up to her title and gained his everlasting admiration.

‘Yes ma’am,’ he heard himself say and he hurdled himself into the battle, after giving his Templars the needed instructions.

Within seconds the phalanx crumbled. Merrill shouted something in elvhen and in no time the elves let loose another volley of deadly arrows and after that drew swords and knives and pressed on over the path the Templars left in their deadly wake and waltzed over the Tevinters with eager determination.

‘Charge!’ Hawke screamed at the same time that the deadly cloud of arrows came down on the Tevinters, heaving her daggers.

They all followed her without thinking.

-

 Varric’s warm baritone floated over the heads present, over all the persons assembled around his large table.

 “For the second time the Guard Captain had to blink her eyes. She recognized the woman who was running, no, dancing through the enemy lines like a scythe, flattening shields, swords and humans alike. Her daggers caught the yellow lights of the still burning lanterns and came alive as if they were moving and striking out of their own will. The Guard Captain blinked again. She couldn’t believe it. It was Hawke! Hawke! The incredible woman had survived the devastating blast, of course she had. Of course she hadn’t gone down in the destruction, and now she was here. To free them. Like some kind of goddess of old flying from the skies at the last moment before everything was lost. And she commanded the force that relieved them. Of course she did. For the second time this memorable night she burst out laughing.

Next she felt the destructive storm of magic energy, shattering the Tevinters all over the place. Chocking and eliminating the hostile mages who were still there. The elves took the occasion to push forward and kill everyone they came upon. Aveline stuck her sword into the air and hooted. ‘Champion!’ she screamed with all of her might. ‘Champion!’ Her men took over her cry and attacked enthusiastically. ‘Champion!’ It became a war cry within a breath, blasting every exhausted soul back to live.

Within no time the Tevinter army disintegrated and was taken over. There were very little survivors.

After it was all over, only the stories remained. Stories told about the streams of blood running down the steps of the stairs to the Keep. About the blue painted warriors who without second thought whirled themselves into the enemy line, about the brave Guard Captain who with her spouse and her men made the last stance on the stairs to the Keep and about the Champion who in the end – again – saved the day,”

-

‘Rubbish.’ Hawke squinted at Varric after he had finished the story. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she bit hotly. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of the exquisite Antivan brandy while she kept looking angrily at the dwarf. ‘This is not how it happened.’

Varric beamed at her. ‘It is close enough to the truth. And you cannot deny I’ve made a wonderful story out of it.’

Hawke flew up. ‘Have you forgotten all about the dead? How many Guardsmen and –women fell that night? About the elves who sacrificed their lives?’ Her eyes grew large and her cheeks turned red with rage. She felt Fenris’s hand clamping around her wrist and he was the only one who restrained her from hitting the dwarf.

Varric slowly put down his glass. ‘No ma’am.’ He addressed her as if she were some kind of queen. It only kindled her fury. But at the same time she felt Fenris’s fingers and that calmed her down. And after that the dwarf’s next words did.

Varric’s look and voice had become solemnly. ‘I haven’t. Hence this story. To remind everyone of all the heroic deeds. Of the sacrifices. Of the heroes who aren’t among us anymore. To keep the memory of what they accomplished alive. Consider it a kind of a monument.’ After some contemplation and a pensive look he added, ‘It occurs not often that a deceased person is given a hero story. I think that every single person that fell that memorable night has a right to be remembered as some kind of hero. Because that is what they were. Like it or not. If it is not to your taste, madam,’ (that title was spoken with a tad more venom than intended), ‘I cannot help it. I’m quite certain the survivors like it.’ He saw her face and backpedalled somewhat. ‘We were both there and experienced first-hand what happened. Do you want me to tell the families what really happened? About the screams, the blood, the devastation, the too badly wounded and all the dead? The wish to _be_ dead because the pain became unbearable..?’ He let the question linger in the air, fairly certain she knew what he meant.

Hawke slumped back and deflated. She closed her eyes. ‘Of course not,’ she mumbled and a tiny smile blossomed. ‘I should have known better. After all, you were there. With the rest of us.’ She opened her eyes again and looked around the exclusive circle.

Marius was the only one to meet her eyes openly. He smiled thinly. He sported a black eye and a large bump on his forehead. And she knew he hid more injuries under his clothes. They had found him near to death on the battlefield, completely spent. Anders had wanted to kill his so-called apprentice on the spot but Aveline had withheld him. ‘He was willing to cooperate, he was willing to give his life for this city,’ she had spat heatedly, ‘don’t you dare to harm him now!’

Hawke smiled back to the Tevinter mage before she turned to Varric.

‘We all were there. We all saved Kirkwall. We all know what it took.’ She heaved her glass. ‘My apologies Varric, you were right all along. There were only heroes that night and every single one of them deserves the praise you granted them with your story. It indeed is a monument.’ Her smile broadened. ‘To the heroes,’ she called and finished the glass in one go.

‘To the heroes!’ the gathering echoed.

Albran felt Fenris embracing her.

‘And now?’ he whispered.

She didn’t know. Their house was wrecked. On the other hand, they could live in the Keep for as long as it took to restore the Amell estate. And besides that ...

She turned in his arms and smiled. ‘I thought you had a rather big house ..?

Fenris smiled back.  That one is as demolished as yours is. But I don’t doubt we will find a solution.’ And he kissed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last of the story...
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Chapter 36

 

_Some days before the gathering at the Hanged Man, to be precise the early morning after the battle._

Orsino looked around at the mages who, just like him, were trapped and stared expectantly at him to find a solution. ‘We can’t get out,’ he said flatly.

He had tried magic on the blocked door but as he had already feared, the mighty and evil magical power on the other side absorbed it all. He feared he would only make it worse with his actions and he had stopped wielding spells. There was no other way out. This was the only entrance to the rest of the Gallows and eventually to Kirkwall; the only windows in the Circle were set high in the walls and were barred. The ground plan was thoroughly thought through. After all, in former days this had been a prison. Besides that, the only thing that awaited them if they, against all odds, would succeed in climbing out, would be the sea. Or worse, the sharp rocks at the foundation of the building. There was no escape whatsoever.

The mages sat all huddled together, listening with pale faces and frightened eyes to the silence that now and again got disturbed by tinkling and creaking noises as if masonry had been heated up and now was cooling down. Sometimes there sounded a sudden sinister rumbling noise in the distance as if a whole section of a wall or ceiling came crashing down and the tower shuddered on such occasions.

‘First Enchanter, is the Circle going to collapse?’ one of the mages eventually asked bashfully.

‘Are we going to die here?’ another one piped up terrified shortly after that first question.

 ‘What has happened?’ several voices cried almost at the same time, taken up courage after the first two wavering questions.

Orsino realised panic was about to break out. ‘I don’t know what has happened,’ he snapped irritably. He tried to relax at the same moment and with force checked his temper. ‘We all have to try to stay calm,’ he continued soothingly, ‘I don’t know what has taken place but I’m sure help is on its way at this very moment.’

And that help would be his death warrant, he knew all too well. He had no illusions about his fate. He looked balefully at Keran who was still lying motionlessly on the floor. The other mages had cast anxious looks upon the young Templar but hadn’t dared to do something about his condition, not even the healers. Orsino knew they thought this tight situation was more or less the lad’s doing and he hadn’t said anything to deny it. They were afraid, he could almost smell it. But of course this mess wasn’t the boy’s fault. He closed his eyes. He had wagered and lost. Twice. He knew he was doomed.

-

The Keep was a classic example of organised chaos – again. But this time the mood was far more grave than after Meredith had spoiled Hawke’s and Fenris’s wedding; the big difference was that there were a lot of dead to mourn. And no courage to work up; the battle was already fought and the adrenaline spent. Many brave men and women had fallen, Guardsmen, Templars, militia and elves alike, and many more were injured. The Viscount’s throne room had been changed into an improvised field hospital and the healers among the mages were doing what they could to save lives, treat the wounded and lessen their pain.

Among them was Merrill who had no real healing capacities but she did her best to put her people from the Alienage at ease and to save them. At last, a bit late, she considered them _her_ people. And saw herself as one of them. And Sebastian did the same for the humans who needed his consolation. After some time Her Grace turned up herself to mingle with the injured and desperate. Even the wounded elves got her attentions and they were grateful for it. Aveline frowned but without any comment let Elthina get her way. As long as it pleased and helped the injured she was fine with it.

It was Fenris, of all people, who had saved Marius and had brought him to the Keep. He had found him on the battlefield, lying for dead somewhere in a square close to the Viscount’s Way. And after Aveline had told how great a help the Tevinter mage had been in the battle, how he had been willing to squander his life for the people of Kirkwall and after she had vehemently forbidden Anders to kill him, the mage himself had taken care of him, though rather grudgingly at first. After he was convinced Marius would live, he took up once more his task as supervisor and coordinated the work that had to be done. Inevitable at some point Elthina and Anders met. Or perhaps it was better to say they collided. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, feeling quite awkward.

‘I do appreciate the work you do,’ Elthina said after a strained silence. ‘I know you have been fighting vigorously down at the Gallows and back here and now you’re putting all your left energy in saving lives.’ She graced him with a brittle smile. ‘Very worthy. I praise you.’

 _Worthy for a mage_ , Anders couldn’t help thinking but said not aloud. At the same time he recognised the thought was some derivate from the time Justice still had held a strong hold on his mind. Instead he nodded his head. ‘Thank you, Your Grace,’ he replied nervously. He wanted to say there had been no fight to speak of in the Gallows, thanks to Cullen, but his voice abandoned him.

She smiled again. ‘Do continue the good work. Don’t let me refrain you.’ She bowed lightly.

And he went on, though rather shakily. She could instruct to make him tranquil or order his death at a whim. She bore that authority as well as the next Knight Commander. Even worse: now Meredith was dead, she was the only one left in Kirkwall with the right to give that command. On the other hand, she had approached him as if he was some kind of hero, which puzzled him. He was no hero. He just did his job. He should rejoice in the vast amount of mages moving freely around in the Keep but he was too occupied with caring for the wounded to be flabbergasted for too long. And he didn’t realise that was the sheer reason why Elthina admired him. That it only emphasized her respect for him. His dedication.

Cullen was busy putting together a rescue party, or at least a team to find out what precisely had happened in the Gallows and if there were any survivors. ‘I would like to make an appeal on you to lend me some of your mages,’ he addressed Anders who was just recovering from his encounter with the Grand Cleric.

Anders looked doubtful. ‘You see how much has to be done here. In fact, I need every person available. There are many lives that need to be saved.’

‘I know,’ Cullen nodded understandingly, ‘but if there are any survivors, it is well possible they’re injured and need care.’ He paused for a few moments. ‘And I don’t know in what state we will find Orsino, in case he’s still alive. He might as well be willing to put up a big fight; after what he has done he has nothing to lose. I fear he will be capable to do anything.’

Anders rubbed his grimy face and smiled dourly. ‘If so, I hope you will give him his what for.’

‘I’d rather take him prisoner and send him to the Divine so she can decide what his punishment will be,’ Cullen answered pointedly, ‘and I still have to make up my mind about what to do with Marius.’

‘And with me,’ Anders grimaced with a heavy heart.

In return the Knight Commander gave him a small inscrutable smile. ‘I figured that one out already.’

Anders frowned but thought it better to ignore the enigmatic but not unfriendly smile for the time being. The praise of Elthina had already been too much to handle. ‘I suppose I can spare two healers. I hope that will be enough. You can take as many willing battle mages as you like with you. I wish you luck.’

At the first brake of dawn Cullen set off with Thrask and their group of Templars and mages to the harbour to find a ship that could bring them to the Gallows, or what was left of it. The sewers were out of the question.

In the meantime Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Isabela had, together with the Guardsmen who still stood tall against all odds, accepted the grisly burden of collecting the dead, although Hawke suspected the pirate queen busied herself more with gathering loot than dragging the corpses outside the Hightown Gate. There was definitely no room for such a large number of fallen soldiers in the Chantry and leaving them in the city was even less an option. They laid the Kirkwall fighters in a neat row on a meadow just outside the gate, but dropped the Tevinters carelessly on a dishevelled heap in a hastily dug ditch.

For one reason or another that didn’t sit well with Hawke and, to her surprise, neither with Fenris.

‘They were soldiers,’ he said pensively, with a frown on his brow, ’following orders.’ He stared in the distance and absentmindedly bit his lip. ‘I suppose they didn’t mean wrong.’ He sighed and smiled wanly at her. ‘I think they are entitled to the same blessing our own dead have got from the Divine.’ And to Hawke’s surprise he went to persuade the women to perform the same ritual their own fighters had received. She sniffed the emotions away and thought it was impossible to love him more.

Aveline had sent patrols around the city, mostly to assure the residents all was well, the assault had been beat off and they all could sleep safe in their beds – i.e. if they had one. And to keep the peace, in case some hotheads got it in their deranged brains to make abuse of the situation.

-

Hours later the four of them were sitting in the Viscount’s office together with Aveline, Donnic and Anders. Merrill was still floating along the amount of elves who were asking fervently for her attention and at the same time Sebastian and Elthina were doing their best to see to the needs of the many wounded. On Fenris’s bidding even to the Tevinters. For some reason they weren’t even surprised by his request.

The others were drinking strong coffee with a generous splash of brandy. The wounded were tended to, the dead had been removed from the city and were now lying on the field not far from the gate, waiting to be burned. Even the corpses of Danarius and his soldiers and demons had been dragged out of the Amell estate and unceremoniously dumped by the other Tevinters. Fenris had witnessed how the body of his former master had been carried to the heap of the Tevinter dead. Hawke had accompanied him on the short journey. She had studied his face that had stayed almost eerily emotionless all the way and had wondered what was going on behind that stony expression.

‘And here he ends,’ Fenris had finally said, ‘amongst a pile of nameless soldiers.’ There had been no hate or heated fury in his voice; there had just been a cool statement. He had bowed his head and the pained look in his eyes, as good as hidden behind his bangs, had missed Hawke’s attention if she hadn’t know him better.

‘Do you have all your memories back?’ she asked, tentatively touching his hand.

Fenris let out something between a snort and a sarcastic chuckle. ‘Only the ones he wanted me to remember.’ He shook his head immediately after. ‘No. That is not completely true.’ e turnedHeHe turned his head to her and smiled. It was a fragile smile. ‘I can still see my father die in the sand of that cursed arena. But I can also see the face of my mother sitting next to my bed, singing my favourite lullaby.’

Albran took his hand and squeezed. ‘That must be a good memory.’

Fenris tilted his head. ‘Yes,’ he murmured pensively. ‘It is.’

-

A small number of the Imperium army had run off with the tail between their legs and no-one had had the energy or desire to pursue them. Not even Fenris, though at this very moment he vented his worry about what they could cause.

Aveline carelessly waved his words away. ‘Let them return to Tevinter,’ she said with grim satisfaction, ‘and tell their Senate Kirkwall is no easy prey. They will think twice before they get once more the insolent idea of attacking us. Besides that, they’ve lost their most powerful magister, together with an essential part of their army. They can’t afford more losses, what with the permanent threat of the Qunari at their doorstep.’

‘Speaking of those creeps,’ Isabela grinned with malicious glee, ‘when the word spreads, I’m sure even the Qunari will not get it in their horned heads to try taking this city,’

‘Especially when a certain person succeeds in keeping their greedy fingers off their costly properties,’ Anders remarked straight-faced, ‘and I‘m honestly surprised you didn’t muddle up the word “horned” with “horny”.’ It earned him a snigger from Varric, a pair of amused raised eyebrows from Fenris and a heated scowl from the queen of the seas herself. But before the latter could give a snarky retort, Cullen entered the room and all faces spun around with an anxious expression. He shot them a ghost of a smile. He looked exhausted.

‘It turns out only the great hall of the Tower is destroyed,’ he reported after he had slumped down in an empty chair. ‘The adjusting corridors are badly damaged, as are the offices of Meredith and Orsino. But the rest of the buildings are more or less intact. We had to excavate the entrance to the Circle’s library though; it was blocked with a load of rubble ...’ He stared ahead pensively. ‘And something that resembled old evil magic.’ He looked intensely and at the same time apologetically at Varric and Anders. ‘It indeed felt like the influence of red lyrium and yes, your mages came in handy.’ Anders frowned. _My mages??_ ‘But we found the Circle mages alive and kicking, though badly shocked.’ He took a sip of his coffee strengthened with the very welcome pick-me-up.

‘And what about Orsino?’ Aveline informed bluntly.

‘And Keran?’ Hawke wanted to know, somewhat more tentatively. ‘Any news about him?’

Cullen smiled wanly at Albran. ‘Keran will be fine. We found him among the mages. He has a few broken ribs, a bad concussion and suffers from the aftermath of the foul magic Orsino has used on him. But he has been taken care for as we speak and will be fit as a spring chicken in no time. About Orsino ...’ His look hardened. ‘The First Enchanter – _former_ First Enchanter – made a dismayed impression. He acted as cooperative and meek as possible. But after his betrayal I cannot trust him any longer.’ He switched his attention to Aveline. ‘I hope you won’t take it ill, but I took the liberty to let him locked up in your dungeon. I used your authority to convince Guard Lieutenant Brennan to open one of the cells. Two Templars are guarding him. Please don’t punish her for my bluntness.’ He nearly blushed.

Aveline heaved her hand in a peaceful gesture to reassure him. ‘Strange times ask for strange measures, Knight Captain. In fact, I’m glad you didn’t bother me with this.’ She cracked a lopsided grin. ‘What else are lieutenants for, if not to take this kind of decisions out of one’s hands?’

To the amazement of everyone present Cullen chuckled. And blushed some more. They had never heard him do that before, nor saw his face in this shade. ‘Indeed, for what else,’ he murmured. Within a heartbeat he became serious again. ‘We will have to send a message to the Divine in Val Royeaux about what happened here, before the words of whatever spy that lingers in the city reach her and she decides to sic an army upon us.’ He managed a bleak smile. ‘We have had enough of that to cope with last night. Enough for a long time. We don’t need another Exalted March.’ 

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. ‘I suppose you’re right. Whatever it will bring up.’

Cullen looked around the circle. ‘I’d like to have a word in private with you, Champion,’ he said eventually and added with the smallest of smiles, ‘and you, Fenris.’

-

‘And me?’

They were standing in the wrecked Amell estate because it was more or less the only place where they wouldn’t be overheard.

Again Cullen wrecked his once impeccable hair that was now drenched with soot and blood and sweat and all together was in complete disarray. Hawke couldn’t help notice it made him look disarming. She was certain Guard Lieutenant Brennan was of the same thought.

‘Yes you,’ the man said now, ‘and not only because you are the Champion’s husband. You know Anders – and Marius better than anyone else.’ He uttered an uncharacteristically snort. ‘After all, you’ve endured and witnessed the worst and best of them.’ He took a deep breath and continued, ‘and I hope the both of you are willing to think with me.’ His face twitched. ‘Even after what Anders has done to you,’ he said to Albran, almost pleading. ‘I can understand --’

She interrupted him with a short wave of her hand and cocked an eyebrow. ‘I don’t want to talk about that. It’s something between me and Anders and I believe we reached some middle ground. You wish to talk about what?’

Fenris lifted a corner of his mouth in the slightest of motions. He already had deduced where this was leading to – and didn’t disagree, to his own amazement to be honest.

Cullen started pacing. He gestured forcefully along the way. ‘This city needs a new Viscount, A strong one. Not some kind of weak puppet like Dumar. I’m convinced Guard Captain Aveline would be the perfect candidate. Would she accept the challenge?’ 

‘I’m certain she would –‘ Hawke started but Cullen didn’t let her finish.

‘Of course she will; if only because she has an indisputable sense of duty. But there is another more important issue, that of a new First Enchanter. I know all too well Her Divine can send anyone to replace Orsino but I think this city needs a person the people can trust. Someone who fought at their side in the worst of her challenges and will be able not only to see the danger of magic but also has the wellbeing of the mages in mind. Many families in this city have mage offspring who are either locked up in the Circle, or hidden away to protect them from the atrocities Meredith allowed.’ He abruptly stopped pacing and turned sharply. ‘We can’t go back to her outrageous standards. It would lead to again a devastating outcome. We need someone who understands both sides. The need for freedom and the appreciating of the danger.’ He bit his lip and launched his last question. ‘Do you think Anders is up to that task?’

Hawke was too dumfounded to answer but Fenris, after some consideration, said carefully, ‘Now Justice has left him and he can make his own decisions, yes I think he is. He’s a changed man.’ He grinned thinly. ‘I’m certain he won’t start a new mage uprising in the function as First Enchanter, but on the other hand you must be prepared for some changes. Mindboggling changes I’m afraid.’

Cullen looked relieved and reciprocated the fragile grin. ‘See, that’s why I wanted you present. You’ve never been his first devotee but, perhaps because of that, you can look through him like no other can. You’re the judge without the prejudice. And, yes, I think I can live with a few changes. Meredith has denigrated mages for too long and we have all witnessed where that led too.’

Hawke grasped the occasion to fill the silence that fell to ask, ‘Do you think he even wants to be First Enchanter?’

Fenris laughed out loud. ‘Of course he wants to. He is as dedicated as Aveline. I have no doubt he wants to protect the mages and at the same time point out their responsibility.’ He took a breath and said, ‘I won’t be surprised when it turns out he wants to make all mages into healers.’

Albran was again – or still gobsmacked and remained silent.

Cullen made use of the chance to push a piece of vellum under their noses. ‘I already took the liberty to write a letter of recommendation. I only need your signatures to make it official.’

‘And what about Marius?’ Albran asked hesitantly. Both males turned to her. ‘I mean, he has been of great value and has fought valiantly after all the evil he has committed. But that was evil caused because he had instructions from the Tevinter senate. And Danarius. At that time he didn’t even perceived his deeds were evil, did he?’ The silence stretched and she couldn’t help but chortle. ‘We let Anders deal with that problem, don’t we?’ The smiles coming her way made clear Fenris and Cullen were of the same thought. ‘Well,’ she beamed, ‘then there’s only one thing left to do. Fenris, Aveline and I, and a lot of other people with us, have to write another letter of recommendation.’ Fenris smirked knowingly and Cullen just stared blankly back at her. ‘To make you the new Knight Commander.’

If possible Cullen’s face became even more blank. ‘And we will not take a “no” for an answer. Feel free to promote Thrask to the rank of Knight Captain. I think he deserves it.’ After some contemplations she added, ‘And for Andraste’s sake, ask Brennan out on a date. Everyone can see she’s as interested in you as you are in her.’ Cullen looked completely panicked at her frank words but Hawke went unremorsefully on, ‘Oh come on, don’t play the How-do-you-know-that- part. It’s stamped on your forehead. And I know Templars can woo a woman. By the Maker, Aveline was married to one once.’

Cullen fled the building with a face on fire, followed by Hawke’s heartily laugh.

-

It took a couple of weeks but in the end, with much help, the Amell estate was restored to the old glory and Albran and Fenris moved back with their three devoted servants they considered more as family. By then the fallen heroes were given to the Maker on their wooden piles that were set on fire with all the reverence they deserved, while the Tevinters got buried without much ado. In fact, their bodies were hastily covered with a thin layer of earth and quick lime to avoid sickness. But although they had been a dangerous enemy and had threatened the existence of the city, Elthina said a short prayer for the wellbeing of their souls, as Fenris had asked.

She had wanted to step down, recognizing her shortcomings and mistakes, but Sebastian had pleaded forcefully for her to keep her position. She might not have been the strong person that had been needed to confront Meredith, but then again, who had been? Even Cullen had failed and he now was the Knight Commander, with the blessing of the Divine herself. Hawke, and even more Aveline, had had their objections but recognized at the same time Elthina represented some kind of mother, or grandmother. A person who was an unconditional symbol of care and love. The tattered city was in great need of such a person right now and she all but was the best candidate. Even for the elves.

To his own astonishment Anders indeed had been made First Enchanter and though he had been overwhelmed at first, and he hadn’t been certain at all whether this was the best position for him, he had accepted. In no time the Circle got reformed and renamed as the “Free Circle”. No mage was forced to live in the narrow quarters, but they were more than welcome if they decided to do so. They, however, could leave as many times as they wished to visit their loved-ones. Within weeks there never had been so many mages living in the Gallows. Most of them utterly relieved they finally could openly confess they were born with the gift of magic without the ghastly repercussions. To be properly trained. Together with the Templars they worked hard to bring back the Gallows to its former splendour.

-

And, as Hawke had intended, a hospital was founded. One that accepted and treated all sick people, even the inhabitants of the Undercity, without costs. It became a hit in no time.

And, yes, Marius stayed. Of course he couldn’t return to Minrathous, he would be killed the moment he disembarked. But he hadn’t wanted to return in the first place. A Seeker had come to Kirkwall, sent by the Divine, to take him away together with Orsino, and to find out what exactly had happened. They had left her in the capable hands of Varric who had spun a grand and glorious story, as was expected. She had taken it all, as also had been expected. They had paid the dwarf’s tab in the Hanged Man without any comment. And the outcome was that Cullen got the rank of Knight Commander, Anders the one of First Enchanter and Aveline could proceed as the Viscount she, in fact, already was. Marius lived in the Free Circle and earned his money as a professor. A professor who taught his students about the dangers of blood magic and mind magic and how to recognize and fight it. The books both Orsino and Anders had discovered were teaching material.

The Divine had ordered to make Orsino tranquil. When the message reached the Gallows Anders and Cullen both felt a pang of grief. Perhaps it had been better if the former First Enchanter had been put to death. But then again, it could well be this was the proper punishment for his foul deeds.

And a monument was erected for the brave elves who had come to the rescue of the humans; a beautiful tableau was hewn out of white marble by an elven artist and set on play in the middle of the Chantry Square.   

Not much later a whisper went around town the new Knight Commander doted on a feisty Guard Lieutenant. In fact, they were engaged a few days after. Brennan couldn’t stop giggling and Cullen put the word “blushing” to a whole new level.

-

Albran and Fenris lay in each other’s arms on a couch in the sparsely lit library. They were sharing a good glass of wine and stared into the fire of the hearth while the last of the candles extinguished. None of them moved. They just basked in the peace and quiet and each other’s silent company.

‘Well,’ Fenris finally said, ‘all is well that ends well, I suppose.’

Albran giggled softly. ‘That’s a platitude if I ever heard one. I thought you were better than that.’

Fenris shrugged his shoulders which caused his upper arm to brush one of her breasts. Her breath hitched. ‘It may be a platitude but it’s also the truth.’ He turned to kiss her. ‘As much as it is the truth `that I’m going to have all of you right now,’ he murmured in that irresistible low dark sugar coated rough velvet voice of his. ‘Would you dare to call that a platitude?’

‘No,’ she breathed with aroused expectation. And she thought, before all thoughts got drenched in the manoeuvres of his deftly fingers, demanding tongue and perfect body, ‘finally alone.’

And, oh, how she would be proved to be wrong.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and paying attention to this story!


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